A Pack Apart
by Hestia Hesperus
Summary: Dangerverse AU: In a magical, medieval world, the Pack is torn apart. When the cubs are kidnapped, Remus, Sirius, Danger, and Letha race against Time to bring them back...but the full moon is approaching, and with it, danger comes thricefold...
1. The Grim Prologue

_**Disclaimer:** This was inspired by the Dangerverse (written by my beta, Whydoyouneedtoknow), cradled by the old style of writing, and nurtured by the Harry Potter series (written by J.K.Rowling). Thus, the only part I really played in this was the singing of the lullaby and changing of the melody. And so, without further ado, I present to you my ink-and-parchment infant..._

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**A PACK APART**

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**PART ONE: FAMILIA LUPINA CATENATA**

**The Grim Prologue**

October, 1094

**T**he Marauders' Den had a reputation—at least, for the few people who'd been there—for being a house of chaos. With four children, three adults, and one adult who acted like a child all penned up in the one building, it was easy to see why one might long for a place of solitude.

_Especially with the war that's raging beneath me at the moment..._

Sirius Black grimaced as the shouting rose another notch. _As if it's not enough that she's standing four feet from him…at least, that's where they were last time I checked. They might have moved closer after I left._

There was no mistaking the fact that Gertrude Granger-Lupin—more commonly known to the occupants of the Marauders' Den as Danger—was furious. Furious about several things, in fact, but Sirius knew that there was one reason in particular. Not that Remus had much to do about the matter…but if shouting at Remus seemed to help, Sirius was quite keen on leaving her to it.

_That's a sight better than her blowing up at me, in any case. My head is still reeling from our oh-so-quaint conversation just last night about my stories…a conversation in which she threw my marble paperweight out the window, incidentally. _

Not that he could blame her. As the days passed, it was becoming more and more frequent for someone to be caught at loose ends. Hermione was especially moody around this time, warning everyone to steer clear from her. Just this last fortnight, Aletha had been going spare because she couldn't for the life of her remember where she'd put her vial of blood-replenishing potion. And yesterday, Draco was furious at the person who'd dyed the handle of his broom so that when he sat down, he got a brown streak across the seat of his pants.

Under normal circumstances, Sirius knew that Draco would have simply tried to curse Harry and then laugh about it afterwards. Now, however…

_Well, Draco has a better reason then the rest of us, but everyone has been on edge for quite some time. And rightly so…Lucius Malfoy escaped from Azkaban three months ago, and every sighting of him brings him closer and closer to us…_

_Damn that bastard._

He grew sober as he stared at his blank parchment once more. Somewhere in the house he heard a door slamming and, not even a second later, saw Danger storming off towards the stables.

_Well, it looks like that was settled nicely. _

Sirius battled in his mind whether or not to go downstairs to see what it was Danger was on about this time, but finally decided against it. If it were any other day, he would have been tempted, but when the Muse called…he answered.

_That's becoming an increasingly bad habit of mine. But then again, I'm not much one to keep her waiting._

He grinned, but it wilted as soon as he glanced again at the blank parchment piled atop his desk.

…_And then, of course, not even ten minutes after she calls, she trips back down the little dale she came from, leaving me quite alone in the literary department. I drag the desk up here, rummage around the weeds to find my blasted paperweight, and as soon as I get all set up, she's gone. Figures._

It really hadn't taken him long to levitate the desk and then his dragon-leather armchair up to the attic (or the third floor, seeing as how it was now occupied by three of the cubs) and then through the trapdoor and up onto the widow's walk. It had become a habit of his to start writing his stories up here. Despite the trouble he had to go through every time, he really wouldn't write anywhere else.

When Remus first found out, he looked at Sirius as though he were absurd (_which really is quite true_), and said, "And this is better than writing in the library with the window open _how_?"

To which he'd replied, "Those musty old tomes you have simply suffocate me, Moony. If I were to go for suicide, I'd much rather stick with heights, thank you."

The view was by far the better, anyway. They really couldn't have picked a better place than this for a home if they had tried. On three sides of the Den as far as he could see were forests and valleys while a small, unused road led away from their land and snaked through the forest to the small village of Ottery St. Catchpole. To the south lay the shoreline, just skirting their land, the sandy beach where the cubs loved to play on summer days, the rockier area where Harry swore they had found a secret cove…

_The Marauders' Den. What a place of mystery and magic…and hidden secrets lying around every corner…it's the perfect hideout away from the world…the perfect place for a criminal, his wife, a werewolf, and a werewolf-tamer to hide. _

He chuckled, _Of course, the cubs are the ones who _really_ make it worth living in…_

But thinking of the cubs brought him back to the matter at hand: writing the damnable story.

_Humph. Perhaps a prompting is needed?_

He put on a solemn face and raised his arms up to the air. From his perch on the highest peak of the house, he was quite sure he cut a ridiculous figure, but he didn't care.

"O gentle and gracious Muse," he intoned. "I ask thee to take pity on and bless this poor and humbled spirit, modeled after thine own mind. Call upon him that he might once again feel the graciousness of thy bounties. Show unto him a sign, that he may—"

An enormous gust of wind passed right by him, startling him, and the stack of parchments flew right off the desk. His eyes snapped open. "OY!"

With his wand, he was able to Summon them back…with the result that they all zoomed towards him with such alarming alacrity he dropped the majority of them all over the floorboards.

Grumbling, he bent down to pick them up and when he'd gathered them all he glared up at the deities above.

"You are aware that when I said 'show me a sign', this wasn't exactly what I meant," he said. The billowing white clouds just moved further across the sky, disdaining to answer.

_Hmm…the clouds are coming in from the sea quite fast, and from the scent in the air, I'd say there's going to be a storm tonight…_

He shrugged. _No matter. My only concern at the moment is how to start this story out. And then to write…or really, to talk!_

He grinned—how he loved magic. For, there on his desk was a perfectly normal quill, but for what it could do when he commanded it. Pulling out his wand, he activated it and all at once it came alive. Springing upright, its long feathered tail in the air, the DictaQuill hovered above the leaf of paper, quivering.

"Now, how to begin…" he said, deep in thought. A shock went through the over-excited quill as it registered his voice patterns, committing them to memory.

He stared at the parchment, a thick creamy color, which reminded him of Hermione for some reason…and thinking of Hermione brought him back to thinking about books, fairy-stories in particular, since he caught her reading one of those to Meghan just last night before Denning…

_What was that story called, again? Oh, something or another about King Arthur and his knights, I'm sure. I wasn't really paying attention, just watching those two together. But out of curiosity, how did _that _story start? How do any stories start, really? I've written enough, I should know…but as to how this certain tale started, it was simple enough._

He thought back to when they had first gotten the children, all the different times, circumstances, and reasons; from when the Pack first began, to the many times it expanded and grew. _But this started before that, even…before the children's time._

It happened once upon a dream…or once upon a prophecy…or once upon a war…or once upon a time….

_Huh. Sounds kind of catchy, that…once upon a time…_

He grinned. _It's actually pretty good! How come no one's ever used it before?_

"Once upon a time…in a world fraught with magic…"

And with that small phrase that would, in hundreds of years to come, become quite popular indeed, he began his tale. Of course, after this first line, another appeared in his mind, then another, and as he kept telling the story to his invisible audience, his faithful quill wrote away….

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_Once upon a time, in a world fraught with magic, the kingdom of England was in turmoil. _

_In this kingdom, it so happened that every Being, albeit good or evil, was capable of magic in some form. Some had learned to channel this ability through an instrument, of wood or steel, iron or stone, it mattered not. The most powerful instrument was known to all as the wand, which was made of wood with a magical core. But these instruments were hard to come by and, whether by intention or not, 'twas only those of royalty or nobility who could afford such objects. Thus, the village people learned to live without, getting by on their own and working for their needs._

_Now, there happened at that time a Council, that all dukes, marquesses, earls, and viscounts, or whosoever else who owned any province of importance, were required to attend. _

_At this Council came to pass many things under discussion, but one in particular brought about a large debate. Now, there were many who strove for equality throughout the land concerning the nobility and those of a lesser state. One such item that was brought up was the situation of the magical peasantry. _

_A proposition was made for the nobles to give one share of their profits for the constructing of wands for all of English origin, and many agreed. However, there was one such lord who rebelled…_

_In fact, this lord had been using his magic for wicked and evil purposes for quite some time. It was he who desired above all things to rule over the land and to teach his Dark magic to all, bringing unto subjection all peasants under his rule._

_With his tempting and conniving ways, he was able to persuade many of the Council of the way England should be ruled. However, not all were caught under his spell, a certain Duke in the far north being one of them. This Duke had taught this Dark Lord in his early years, and thus knew his manipulative ways. _

_An argument broke out which led to this Dark Lord pulling out his wand in anger. With it he cast on the king a curse such as had never been known before. This curse was later to be known as the Killing Curse. After his heinous and horrible crime, he and those who followed his ways fled back to his estates. With all those who believed on his words, they strove to create an army to bring down the kingdom as it was. _

_The land soon erupted into a civil war, pouring into every household; from the widow queen's luxurious chambers to the nearest village pub. Years of strife and misery went by. All over the countryside there was news of another battle, another death. _

_The evil lord's followers grew and grew so that they came to be known as the dreaded Knights of Walpurgis. By him they were taught Dark spells that tortured and killed and did many other wicked things that are not to be told in this tale. For never before had any one spell been known to do these horrific crimes. The worst of these began to be known as the Unforgivable Curses._

_In the Dark Lord's name, the Knights of Walpurgis went forth across the land, always masked and never revealed. They tried to bring every peasant into submission of this lord, and those who fought were tortured and slain._

_Many soon began fearing even to speak the Dark Lord's name, for his forces were growing and, try as the Queen's subjects might to reduce them, he was becoming far too powerful. With his followers' help, more and more of the dangerous magical creatures were joining his side, which did not bode well for the kingdom. But whether it was by force or by consent, no one knew. _

_Spurred on by the giants' revolt, the Crown began to round up the Dark creatures, intent on keeping them far from the Dark Lord's reach. The Queen's army began to slay as many dragons as they could get their hands on, so as to not have them befall any ill-use; and even the werewolves were gathered up and locked away in a remote fortress in the country, where their keepers slowly poisoned them each night of the Full Moon. _

_It was the dark minions called dementors, however, that the Crown was intent on keeping for their own devices. They were sent to guard the dreaded Azkaban Isle, where a fortress was built and they were sending all those they captured from the Dark._

_It was just as the war was reaching its climax when a decree was sent throughout the kingdom, calling on all those able to aid in the good cause against the evil lord. Messengers were sent out to bring all of the Scryers, prophets, and seers to the Crown, to spy on the enemy and predict the outcome of the war. But it wasn't long after these orders were carried out that the Dark Lord demonstrated once more his power and cunning. His forces outwitted and outfought all those of the Crown, and every Scryer, every seer, and every prophet in the kingdom fell into the hands of the Dark Lord for him to use as he would._

_In that same year, the attacks were becoming more frequent and much worse. None of the villages throughout the countryside were safe anymore. The people couldn't depend on the Crown for safety, so they were all fleeing to the one safe haven they had left: Hogwarts._

_The Castle Hogwarts lay in the northern-most part of the kingdom, in the wide province of Dumbledoreshire. It was ruled justly by the Lord Albus, who took in all who asked for his help, whether they be of noble birth or peasants. For, before the war, the Castle Hogwarts had been known throughout the country as a school for all magical children, albeit nobility or commoner. In height of the war, however, the school had to be discontinued so there would be room for all as a haven of the mass destruction happening throughout the kingdom._

_Now among these people there was a group of friends who had grown up with each other during the earliest years of the war. This circle was made of six: two noble-borns, two peasant-borns, one who was both and yet neither at the same time, and one who had a secret so terrible that it would cost him his life if ever anyone found out. Four of the group were male, two female, yet friends they were and friends remained. _

_They were all brought together at the start of the war; learning, playing, laughing, growing as one, though the world around them was lit with death and destruction. As they grew older they were taught how to fight with all manner of weapons as were customary: long-sword, broadsword, axe, staff, spear, javelin, archery…But all around them, the Knights of the Dark Lord were learning to torture and kill using magic, of which many of these weapons could be of no use. In order to protect themselves against this unknown onslaught, they had to fight fire with fire. _

_The war was very much a part of their world, but they learned to live their lives despite it. There were funerals and deaths but marriages and births as well. The group expanded with the birth of a child to two of the number and they became seven instead of six._

_Then one day, it was all destroyed._

_A prophecy was made stating that one soon to be born would have the power to vanquish the Dark Lord. When the child was born—the child of the two of the aforementioned group, as it happened—the Lord Albus underwent great pains to ensure the small infant was safe inside the castle, where the Dark Lord could not get to him. But try as the Lord Albus might to secure this information, the Dark Lord came to know of it, and sought to kill the child._

_As the war reached its peak during the Full Moon in the fall of that year, the Knights of Walpurgis came to the fortress where the werewolves were kept. They had been locked away in the remote lands of Wolvershire for nearly a year, now, and having been denied the taste of human flesh, they were on a rampage. The followers of the Dark Lord smote down the guards and released the werewolves into the night._

_As a pack, the now-crazed werewolves followed the scent of human flesh and travelled to the nearest town in the neighbouring shire… which happened to be Dumbledoreshire. _

_With the werewolves loose in the countryside, the Dark Lord set the rest of his forces upon the outspreading village of Hogsmeade as a diversion, and many of those from the castle went out to fight them off. _

_The following battle came to be known as the bloodiest during the course of war. _

_It was then that the Dark Lord forced his way into the castle and, with help from a traitor, he was able to sneak into the heart of Hogwarts where they were hiding the child. He killed the father and then the mother, and attempted to murder the child himself…_

_That was his downfall. _

_The deathly curse he used to strike down the child rebounded upon him, destroying him utterly. At that moment, the tides of the war turned. Without their leader, the Knights of Walpurgis fled. _

_The war was over. _

_In the aftermath, however, Lord Albus still had much to piece back together. Too many had died or been injured in some way. The great village of Hogsmeade had been almost destroyed by the invasion. And this child, a mere infant, had just saved the entire kingdom from the single, greatest threat in over a century…and had escaped with nought but a mark on his forehead._

_But what to do with him…for the Duke knew that this child was special and had to be protected beyond any simple means. The Lord Albus knew more than any other what this Dark Lord had done—what he was capable of— and knew that if he ever rose again, he would go straight for this small babe._

_Thus, he went against his fatherly instincts and took the child away to the seaside town of Portsmouth, where the child's only blood relative lived. Lord Albus gave the child to the pompous merchant and his overbearing wife (who had been the sister of the boy's mother) and lay thick the spells and enchantments over their house, to keep the boy safe as he grew up. _

_Back at Hogwarts, however, the loss was too great. This circle of friends, once so happy, was now no more. Three were dead by the hand of one they had once called their best friend, and this traitor, who had brought about the destruction and the saving of the magical world, was soon apprehended and sent to live out the rest of his life in the dreaded Azkaban Isle._

_The remaining two were not slain, but the loss of their five friends, including the traitor and the child, was too much. The remaining lady was greatly injured from the battle; for many months, none were sure whether she would live or die. The last one, in the grief of his losses, fled the castle. _

_He went to the solitude of the mountains and stayed there for several months, eating or drinking hardly at all, killing himself slowly. Every night of the Full Moon, he let his curse—the dreaded curse of the Werewolf—take him over, bit by bit, though he was always careful to confine himself. His grief was a private matter, and he wished no harm on the innocents who lived nearby._

_Then, one night, five months exactly after the Full Moon that had changed his life forever, he decided to end it all. For he had had a dream that the Werewolf had taken him over completely and loosed itself on the countryside. He would not let that happen._

_Before the moon rose at its normal time that evening, he was ready. He cast a ward over the opening of his cave so that the Werewolf could not exit in that way. He then caught a rabbit and injected silver into its bloodstream; with no humans to attack, the Werewolf would kill and eat the rabbit. _

_He would be dead before sunrise._

_His changes began and all went according to plan, but just as he was about to lunge at the rabbit, something happened he had not planned on. A small opening near the top of the cave, which served the human man as a window, now admitted both the smell of human flesh and the cry of a small child. The dual lure was too great for the Werewolf to resist, and he hurled himself at this opening—_

_And broke through it. With a howl of triumph, he took off into the dead of night, now on the scent._

_In a cottage less than a mile away, a maiden had just got her small sister to sleep. She lay the girl down beside a little boy for whom she was caring whilst his aunt and uncle were away. As she exited the room and closed the door softly, she had a sudden urge to lock it. Just as she had done this, the front door burst open behind her. She whirled around to come face to face with a werewolf._

_At once he tried to attack the woman, but she fended him off, flinging her apron at his face until he backed away with a snarl. Then the crying started again—one of the children had awakened. The Werewolf lunged towards the nursery room, but the woman threw herself in front of him, her hand connecting with his paw… _

_The rest was history._

_This maiden turned out to be a werewolf-tamer…one of the only ones of her kind. Through her wild, untamed magic, she could also prophesy in dreams about what was to come. It was through these same dreams that the man, when he awakened again in his human mind, learned the truth about his circle of friends. The one they'd thought was dead had really been the one to betray them all, and the one imprisoned on Azkaban Isle had really been innocent all along. _

_And the child…the one everyone was calling the Boy-Who-Lived was not lost to him after all, but there in that very cottage. For by some unknown coincidence, this woman was employed for the pompous merchant in Portsmouth, as the child's nanny. _

_As more of his humanity returned to him, the man recognized the cottage where he lay. It was the very one that he and his circle of friends had often escaped to during the Full Moons for his time as a werewolf. When he had ceased to use it, this woman's family had moved into it and lived happily there until her parents were both murdered one night before the final battle. _

_The man also learned through the tamer-maiden that his secret was out and he was now wanted all throughout the kingdom for being a werewolf. Those in power not only wanted all werewolves locked away forever, but were now seeking to kill them all for fear of having another massacre. He was now a wanted man. _

_With the woman's sister and the famous child playing under the table, the couple sat down and tried to piece together this tangled web. Their first action was to contact the last lady of the circle—who had not died as her friend had assumed—and with her help, they conjured a plan…one of daring brave and nerve and willing sacrifice._

_For they were going to accomplish the impossible and break into the Azkaban fortress, rescuing the innocent man. They also planned on stealing the child away from his unloving relatives and raising him up as their own. With an escaped convict, a wanted werewolf, and a stolen child among their numbers, however, they would need a place to hide from the world, where they could raise the two children in peace and live together in happiness._

_Thus the cottage was renamed the Wolves' Den and history was made. The four adults assumed different identities, and lived in the cottage in the woods just outside of Hogsmeade…the unlikeliest place imaginable to be the home of a werewolf, a werewolf-tamer, an escaped convict, his rescuer, the Boy Who Lived, and the Girl Who Was Saved._

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Sirius came to a pause and looked over at what had been written. 

"Oh, damn, I forgot to say how she came by that name," he muttered, re-reading that last sentence. Still activated, the DictaQuill hastened to copy down what he'd just said.

"No, no, I didn't mean for you to..._scratch that!_" he ordered, and the quill immediately obeyed. "Good. Now if we could just back up a bit...no, further...further...stop! That's it, right there. Are you ready?"

The quill quivered.

"Good. No more inserting swear words in there?"

The quill quivered again, and a few drops of ink leaked out.

"Good. Now to start..." Sirius cleared his throat and began again, the DictaQuill plunging in right where he said to.

"Now, while the Castle Hogwarts was being invaded and the village was being plundered, the woman who did not yet know she was a werewolf tamer and her small sister were in the midst of it all. After her parents' deaths just two months before, they had moved to the village so that she could both work and care for her sister. Then the attacks started.

"In the dark of the night, half the village was burning. The Knights of Walpurgis were torturing countless many in the streets. The maiden decided to stay behind and help fight them off, so she gave her sister to a friend, who was fleeing with some other people from the village, knowing that she might never see her sister again.

"The group escaped safely with the little girl and a few other children. They fled into the forest, not knowing they were being followed. Many were barefoot, their feet bleeding, and barely dressed against the cold. They walked for what seemed like hours, not stopping until they were sure they were safe again...

"But it seemed that they weren't safe after all." Sirius's face was grim as he recounted the tale. "For the werewolves could smell their blood more than a mile away. And then, when they knew the people's strength would be far too spent for them to fight back...the pack of werewolves began to attack them.

"The men and the women tried to fight them off bravely, but they were no match against the crazed beasts. When all the adults were dead, the werewolves advanced towards the younger children, the maiden's sister being one of them..."

Sirius broke off and stared out at the sun, setting a bright glow over the autumn trees. Judging by its position, it was nearly time for luncheon. His stomach growled while the quill waited patiently for him to start talking.

He began again. "Meanwhile, the maiden had fought bravely in the battle. And when the morn came, she helped to capture many of those that tried to flee after the Dark Lord fell. Then, with the help of some others, she rode out into the countryside to see if her sister and friend had made it to safety. They followed the bloody trail until they came upon the carnage...but in the midst of it all lay the maiden's sister, crying from fear and cold, dead werewolves strewn around her, the only survivor of the battle in the woods.

"No one knew what had saved the small girl from those werewolves that night; they only knew that she should have died. However, she was found with not even a single mark upon her. Thus they began to call her the Girl Who Was Saved." The only sound besides Sirius' voice was the squeaking of the DictaQuill as its end flew across the page in an intelligible script.

_Better than my own handwriting, anyway,_ he thought, staring idly at it.

He stood up and started pacing the small length of the walk. With the bulk of his desk and overlarge armchair, there wasn't that much room. His mind kept going back...going back to the fierceness of that battle. The one where he'd lost everything he'd ever known and loved...

_And I wasn't the only one. Harry lost his parents because of it...as did Danger and Hermione. And Aletha..._his heart panged as he remembered being led by dementors away from the scene...her still body laid among the rest of the injured.

_And none of them thought she was going to live through it. She never even woke up until Yuletide, a good two months after the battle..._

Then there was Remus...Remus, who'd fought the evil ones as best as he could until the moon rose…and when he came to the next morning, his world had disappeared.

_I don't blame him for running away. I wanted to, as well, but there was a problem. _Sirius gave a dry chuckle that held no mirth in it whatsoever. _I couldn't exactly go anywhere in my cell, now, could I?_

At once the memories of Azkaban Isle came back to him. His gray eyes darkened considerably as he remembered the power of a hundred-odd dementors feeding off of his memories. The darkness…always the darkness…the constant feeling of drowning in the sorrow of everything he'd ever done wrong…

_Until she came…_

He remembered the time he was saved from that hell as clearly as if it were yesterday.

_Even though she was in a different form at the time…and even though I had simply thought it was all a dream…that is, until she changed back once we were safe._

Sirius shook his head, marvelling. _Whoever it was up there who said 'the winged truth shall set him free'…well, they certainly weren't lying._

In his mind's eye, he could see what they must have looked like, the pair of them that night. A thin, unkempt man sitting atop a midnight-black, winged horse, flying off underneath the stars…flying on to their haven…

The Wolves' Den.

_

* * *

__A few years went by and all was well for this newly formed Pack. The tamed werewolf became its alpha male and his mate, the werewolf tamer, became the alpha female; the man believed traitor and his mate, the Healer who'd saved him, became the betas of the Pack. The two children, the Boy Who Lived and the Girl Who Was Saved, grew up together as brother and sister, and they hid from the world successfully and prospered._

_Through her dreams, the warrior maiden was able to ease the mind of the good Lord Albus. Once he was ensured of the safety of the small boy, and convinced of the innocence of the man, he became a powerful ally against the forces of the Crown._

_The village wasn't far away, so the warrior woman was able to find work doing what she loved best at the bookshop. The Healer, as well, found a love of potions and apothecary. It was the hidden talent of the innocent man, though, that caught everyone off guard. Weekly, he sent in stories to the village to be published under the name of the Lady Valentina of Jett. _

_With the happiness of the Pack in their hideout from the world, it wasn't long before the beta female found out that she was with child. In the spring of the following year, a beautiful daughter was born to the two betas, adding yet another cub to the growing Pack._

_However, danger was coming just around the corner, for though the Dark Lord had fallen, his followers remained. Some were caught and sent to prison or slain, but some hid their association with him and went on with their lives, ever-watchful should he rise again._

_The Earl of Wiltshire was one of them._

_A favorite of the Crown, he was able to convince the Queen of the importance of capturing the murderer and the werewolf. He was quite certain that it was the former of these who'd captured the Boy Who Lived, and one day he was able to prove it._

_While the members of the Pack were in the large village of Hogsmeade, the Earl spotted the man and the boy together. He revealed them and sought to battle with the man, but the battle was interrupted by the half-giant friend of the Lord Duke. This friend helped the man and the boy against this earl and was persuaded of the man's innocence, thus making him yet another initiate of their secret._

_Another year passed for the Pack with the joy and pain of having younglings and a secret to guard. They made weekly dealings with the townspeople, but no one ever learned of their true nature. They wore disguises and took on different names so that there would not be the slightest possibility of anyone being suspicious._

_And the Pack prospered and grew and loved each other very much. The three children were very special in many ways, the greatest of these being that they loved and were loved, safe in the gentle shelter of the Wolves' Den. But although they loved to play with each other very much, the children secretly wished they had someone else to call their friends… _

_It was not long, therefore, before the children found a family in the village whom they all came to love and respect admirably. This family was plentiful in children, and the two youngest happened to be the ages of the Pack's own cubs. For many weeks the two families grew in closeness to one another, although this new family did not know the Pack's true identity._

_But the Earl of Wiltshire wanted revenge upon the Pack for thwarting him and his lord, and, although it took him quite a while to find them again, at last he was able to locate where they lived. And one dark day, whilst both families were together in gaiety, he went there in secret and rendered unconscious both parties with one curse. With help from an unknown source, he took both families to his castle manor and imprisoned them all in dungeon cells. _

_When they awoke, the Pack-parents did not know what the Earl could have done with their friends. He came to their cell, though, and bragged about his plans for their children. The boy-child he would raise up as a brother to his own son, guiding him in the ways of the Dark until his lord rose in power once again. The elder girl-child he would use in blood-magic rituals, joining her and his son together as twins, for in his greed, he believed that her survival of the werewolf attack meant she had power unknown to all. After he'd given her power to his son, he would then dispose of her, as he would the smallest girl. _

_With these plans in mind, he set about to making them possible. Powerless to stop him, the Pack-parents went through to the torture of having him gloat while he started these procedures. For seven days, he did this and for seven days the Pack endured his taunting._

_It was during this time, however, that he had to pay host to a family who was travelling through his lands towards their own estates. He and his lady received the Lord Francis and Lady Alice graciously, and the visiting couple received it in kind, though both wished themselves elsewhere. Their small son called on the earl's son many times in politeness, and they would have become more than just acquaintances had the earl's son been raised differently. _

_In the short time that they were there, however, the Lord Francis and his lady never suspected that the Earl of Wiltshire was keeping two families hostage, though their son spun tales of a baby girl with whom he had played in the far recesses of the castle. They soon left and it was up to the Pack to rescue themselves._

_Thus when it came time for the rituals to begin, the Pack-parents were able to thwart the earl, saving their children and stopping the murder of their Pack-daughter. However, the blood-ritual had proceeded as planned, and their own child and the earl's son were now twins. As well, before they could strike down the earl, he caught the beta male with a deadly curse. Believing himself to be dying, he asked to hold his daughter one last time. As she lay in his arms and he kissed her, a miraculous thing happened: he was healed._

_Now, the earl's wife, the Countess of Wiltshire, wished vengeance upon her husband. Instead of recapturing the Pack when she came upon them, she exchanged their freedom and her husband's capture for their adoption of her son, then poisoned herself. And so it was thus that the Pack escaped with their lives...and yet another child. _

_Meanwhile, the Earl of Wiltshire was stripped of his titles as he was sent to Azkaban Isle; titles and land instead went to his firstborn son. But when guards came to take the man away, they could not find the boy._

_Thus the Pack strengthened and became the eight: the werewolf and the werewolf-tamer, the convict and the Healer, the Boy Who Lived and the Girl Who Was Saved, the Boy Who Disappeared and the Girl Who Healed. They returned to the Wolves' Den and taught the earl's son how to do good continually, treating him with love and equality. Their enemy dwelt now in prison, where he deserved to be, and their secret was safe from everyone yet again._

_And throughout the kingdom, two more legends were born, one of a vanished child, the other of a missing family. A search was sent throughout the lands roundabout, but the red-haired family was never found, dead or alive, and everyone suspected the worst. No matter how hard they tried, none could get the earl to divulge what he had done with the family._

_Meanwhile, the Pack had only been at the Den for a fortnight when they realized that they could no longer feel safe there, and it was desolate without their friends. So they visited with the Lord Duke and their giant friend once more before packing up their cottage (reducing the furniture to fit in their bags) and leaving it forever._

_With the gold from three of their vaults, they bought passage on a fine ship. For nigh onto a year they travelled the world to many places, all the while still seeking the lost family. They remembered upon the time they were locked in the prison cell when the earl had said that he had cast them from the kingdom, knowing that they were never to return. So the Pack searched for them for many months, never ceasing…but 'twas all in vain. Finally did they return to England. _

_For the while they came again to Dumbledoreshire and resided with the Lord Albus until they found a new home. But they knew that they had to live as far from his estates as they could, for the manhunt for the murderer and the werewolf had grown exceedingly, spurred on by the king's advisor and captain of the guard. For while they had been gone, a new king had come up in the queen's stead and wanted to murderer and werewolf brought down. No one knew exactly why he wanted this so much, but they suspected the man he'd brought with him._

_It wasn't long before the Pack came to the southern lands and found in Devon what it was they had been looking for. A large, abandoned cottage with plenty of land roundabout, it looked perfect for a new den. They purchased the land and moved in almost immediately, christening it the Marauders' Den. _

_For many years they grew and flourished. The children were able to make a few friends in the small village nearby, but they still felt that something was missing. The first two children remembered on the two red-haired friends they had made at their other den. The second boy remembered on his childhood with his father and a servant girl he had become friends with. The smallest of the four, the dark girl who healed, remembered as well being at the late Earl of Wiltshire's estate and meeting a shy boy visiting with his mother and father, who had discovered her by accident. _

_Meanwhile, the Pack-friends – as the Lord Albus and his giant friend were coming to be called – soon numbered to four, and though the last gave them all quite a scare, they profited from it eventually. All was well._

_By this time, it had been nearly four years since they had returned from their travels and the children were growing. They made themselves known in the village; the warrior lady working at the village spellbook store, and the Healer lady became well-known in the subtle arts of potion-brewing and healing._

_The men were able to amuse themselves in other ways, one of these being to teach the children well in all manner of subjects; namely, literature, mathematics, spellwork, healing, hand-to-hand combat, and sword fighting, each child excelling in different things. _

_The children came to know learning and hard work well, though they often found a way to turn things to their advantage, as shrewd and cunning as they were. By the time the oldest children were ten and the youngest had turned seven, they had traveled the kingdom many times, to Dumbledoreshire to converse with the Lord Duke, and to London to learn of the Court and the Crown. _

_It was on one such journey that they had stopped at the home of the Lord Francis and Lady Alice on their way to the Den, wearing disguises and going by false names so as not to be recognized. However, little by little, Lord Francis and Lady Alice worked out who it was exactly who had come to their estates. They were able to learn the locations of the Pack and, believing that they were bringing to justice a murderer and a werewolf and the kidnappers of two famous boys, they sought a way to capture them. _

_With many of their own guards and soldiers (the captain of these being an experienced scarred man, who greatly wanted the murderer brought to justice), they came to the Marauders' Den. The Pack, however, had been forewarned through the alpha maiden's true-dreams, and was able to make necessary preparations. They were helped, of course, by the unknown beings who often made their way into the lives of the Pack. They were able to send the children away to safety, transfigured into animals by their Pack mother. The soldiers advanced and a battle followed as the Pack fought for their home and family, not wanting to be torn apart again. _

_It wasn't too long before both the alphas were unconscious, leaving the other two to hold them all off. Things were at their bleakest when the children arrived with the Lord Albus, and they were able to convince the lord and lady of Longbottomshire of their innocence. Then, faced with the task of keeping the secret limited to just a few, the Lord Albus had to erase the incident from all of the soldiers' memories. _

_Greatly chagrined, the Lord Francis and Lady Alice desired to help in any way they could. Soon, they came up with a solution so that the Pack could stay in their Den without any fear of anyone finding them out ever again. With the Lord Albus's help, they performed the Fidelius Charm, and the Longbottoms were named Secret-Keeper for the Pack. _

_Then they parted ways yet again. The lord and lady returned to their estates, knowing that it was dangerous for them ever to contact the Pack, lest they were found out about holding the secret to their hideout. And for the many years that followed, none ever found them again…_

_

* * *

_"...And though they faced many dangers after that – no pun intended – the Pack only grew to love each other all the more and to understand others," Sirius finished, with a wide smile. "Thus is the legend of the Werewolf and the Werewolf-Tamer, the Grim and the Healer, the Boy Who Lived and the Girl Who Was Saved, the Boy Who Disappeared and the Girl Who Healed. And they lived happily ever after to the end of their days…" 

He paused, looking for just the right combination of words to end his tale. "Erm…'The end'?"

Applause sounded from behind him, making him jump from surprise and embarrassment.

"Bravo! What an inspiring tale!" Aletha cried, looking up at him from halfway though the trapdoor. "Magnificent, darling, simply superb! Do I hear an encore, perhaps?"

Sirius recovered by giving her a deep, sweeping bow. "Thank you, thank you. How could a humble man such as myself decline such a woman of beautiful stature?"

"Beautiful stature, eh?" she said dryly. "Try telling me that when I'm not hunched on a ladder, with cherry juice in my hair and flour smeared on my dress, why don't you? Maybe then I'll believe you."

"But, my fragrant blossom, your divinity surpasses all others, no matter what exquisite state you are in. Why, even the sun itself—"

"Oh, stop the theatrics and help me up, you knave. I think my knees are stiff from standing over that cursed stove all afternoon…may Hades come and take it to the Underworld…" she added as an afterthought.

"Dost mine ears deceive me? My fragile wife darest to lift a lovely hand in the kitchen? What mockery is this?" Sirius said in mock outrage. "Come, woman, and tell me where the ungrateful wench is who left you with such a burden! I shall have Cook fired for such a crime!"

Aletha shoved him. "Call me fragile again and I'll make you wish you were, and call Danger 'Cook' to her face and you soon will be! And why do you keep talking like that, anyway?"

"What is this? An accusation? Oh, confound me! What a great danger I have laid myself upon, living with two vengeful she-demons to confer their wrath upon me! Back, ye devil! Back, I say!"

Aletha whacked him and Sirius yelped.

"See if I ever applaud _you_ again," she said, scowling and sitting down in his armchair. "What have you been writing, anyway?"

"Oh…" Sirius stuck his hands in his pockets and whistled absently. "Nothing."

"Nothing? Since when have you ever written nothing and admitted it?" Aletha said, craning her neck to look up at him.

He scowled. "Well, if that's how you're going to be about it…"

"Would a kiss make you feel better?"

Sirius sniffed. "If that's all you can afford," he said pompously, "I believe it shall have to be."

She laughed and drew him close to her so that she could oblige him. When they broke apart, she said, "Was that good enough for you, my dear?"

"Much." He grinned, before going in for more.

"So. Why are you covered in flour again?" he asked when they were through. Below them they could hear the familiar sounds of Remus tuning up his violin. A delicious smell was wafting up to the widow's walk, and Sirius's stomach let out a loud growl.

She smiled. "That's why. Now can you help me find the cubs to tell them it's ready? I know they're around here somewhere…"

"Don't think you'll need to tell the boys; they'd be able to smell it a mile away. The girls'll be much harder, however…"

She dismissed him with a wave. "Oh, Hermione's probably up in a tree somewhere, reading, and last I saw Meghan, she was making her way down to the beach. The way she keeps going on like that, her feet will freeze to the water."

"Well, it's not like we can just take her away. She spends almost as much time down there as she does with us," Sirius said, deactivating his DictaQuill and gathering up his parchments, nearly all of which were now written on.

"Still, I wish she wouldn't get all these colds in the fall. She is not a pleasant patient, let me remind you!" Aletha shrunk his desk until it was no bigger than a mixing bowl and proceeded down the trapdoor. Sirius followed, with the parchments under one arm and tucking the now-miniature armchair into his pocket.

"So did you want to hear what my latest is about?" he asked as they headed past the older cubs' rooms and down the hall.

"Of course I do. It's about us, isn't it? I caught that much," she answered him.

"Yes, it's about us. Our past. Everything that's ever happened to us – well, except for the Philosopher's Stone…I didn't put that in. Or the Basilisk and the diary…didn't have much room for that, either. But those are their own stories, and they're not really mine to tell."

Aletha set down the desk, restoring it to its original size, then turned around and smiled at her husband. "And is this story about facing peril and dangerous quests?"

"But of course…"

"And is this story about great romance and chivalry and brave knights in shining armour?" She asked, taking a step forward.

"As always…" He moved closer to her as well, picking a cherry bit out of her hair.

"And does this story have a certain man in it, intent on wooing his lady fair?" she asked, now a mere six inches from his face.

"Wouldn't have written it, otherwise…"

"Good." She closed the distance between their lips, pulling him to her and wrapping her arms around him, deepening their kiss.

Elsewhere, a violin kept playing as its musician drew his bow across the strings, his mind lost in the music. Not too far away, a brown horse galloped through the luxurious fields, both rider and horse marvelling in the salt-breeze and the wind, while a girl played in the shallows of the beach, feeling the cool water wash over her dark skin. Sword clanging also split the air as two boys took up the best way to cure boredom. And a curly-haired girl turned the page of her book from her perch high up in her favourite tree, lost in her own world.

Thus did the members of the Pack spend their afternoon in their beloved home, the Marauders' Den.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **So did you like it, hate it, despise it...what? I know it's different, that's why I'm calling it by a different verse so people don't get too horribly confused. As some people have already pointed out, there are some things that have changed that have not been mentioned. Over the entire story, we'll be seeing some flashbacks shown from different characters points of view, so the readers can see how things have changed, where it's all changed, etc. _

_The next chapter will be called "Less than a Pearl", and_ _will be jumping right into the story, whereas for this prologue, I had to recount everything. So stay tuned! Dunno when I can post it, seeing as I'll be moving over the next few weeks, but any free time I have, I write. And please, don't forget to review! _

_And this is my present to a certain birthday girl, who happens to be turning sixteen today. Happy birthday, Cherry! I hope it's a good one!_

_Cheers!_


	2. Ch 1 Less than a Pearl

**_Disclaimer:_ **_I disclaim anything Anneish or Rowlingish. Oh, and that includes Enyaish this time. Letha's song was written for Enya's CD **Amarantine, **called "Less than a Pearl"__, so I disclaim that too. And the Marauder song the cubs sing was written by my beta, Whydoyouneedtoknow, and can also be found in her **Roman a Clef, **which was one of the inspirations for this story. Capisce?_

* * *

A PACK APART

* * *

**Chapter One: Less than a Pearl**

A small, dark hand reached into the shallows of sunny water. Fingers closed around a soft-pink shell.

"Ooh!" breathed their owner when she pulled her prize out of the water and held it under the gleaming sun. Beaming with pride, she dropped it into her small bag, where it clinked merrily with the other seashells the girl had found.

The day was cloudy with the musty promise of a shower later on, yet Meghan Black was dressed in naught but her shift. She had disposed of her heavy dress as soon as she had come out of sight of the Den and into the safeties of the cove. Now it was carelessly slung over a large rock, its prim, handmade fabric in danger of slipping off into the mud. Thrown hastily next to it were the small brown boots her mother had made her wear down here.

Meghan grinned mischievously. _She only told me to wear them. She never said for how long…_

It was not as if she did not like wearing them, mind. They were pretty little things given to her by her Aunt Andy, after all. It was just—Meghan grimaced ruefully as she looked over at them—they dragged heavily in the water, those, and she hated how weighed down she felt, wearing them.

She glanced down at her attire and was perfectly delighted in the way the wet sand squished between her toes. The last six inches of her hem floated in the water, the white fabric contrasting with her dusky bare legs. She twirled her dress a little, watching as it spun through the water around her, leaving small ripples in its wake.

She gave a small giggle that made her feel slightly giddy and waded out deeper through the shoals, singing.

"_A leaf is fluttering in the air_

_Swish, swish, swish!"_

She danced around a bit, dipping down with her hands every time she said 'swish'.

"_Another joins him and makes a pair_

_Swish, swish, swish!"_

She turned around, looking down the beach. When she didn't spot any trees, she just shrugged and continued on.

"_They float and glide, fall and slide,_

_Catch them if you dare!_

_But if you watch them, _

_Dance with them, then,_

_Swish…swish…swish!"_

Humming under her breath, she jumped onto a rock and started hopping from one to another, away from the shore and towards the open ocean.

* * *

Remus Lupin was known to be a man of well-chosen words. 

"Look, Danger, I should have told you when I first found out, but I didn't want you to worry—"

Unfortunately, there were times when he was seriously lacking.

"You didn't want me to _worry_? Remus, he's after our son and need I remind you what he'd do to Draco if he ever finds out where we are? It's a bit bloody late for you not wanting me to worry, don't you think?" she snapped.

This was one of them.

"He's not going to find out where we are. We've already been through this. As long as we are under the Fidelius, there's no possible way for him to be able to find us, unless Francis and Alice reveal it themselves, and I would trust them with my life—with our cubs' lives! So unless you're suggesting that they'd willingly trade us in to Malfoy…" he stopped, looking at her. "You're not, are you?"

"No!" Danger threw her hands up, frustrated. "Do I look that foolish to you? I trust them just as much as you do, but…things happen, Remus! You, of all people, should know that. Just like you should've _known_ I was going to find out sooner or later that maniac after our son is _twenty miles _away from our house!"

_And now we're back to the yelling._

"Damn right, we are!" Danger's voice cut through his thoughts and he winced—he hadn't been aware he was broadcasting. "How do you think I felt, Remus, when I was in town, and everyone was going on about the latest news—about which I had absolutely no clue? Which is rather ironic, seeing that it pertains to our family? And then to come home to find out that you _knew_, but didn't want to tell me, because 'you didn't want me to _worry_'?"

She imitated his voice almost perfectly, he had to give her that. "I've already admitted that what I did was stupid, what more do you want from me?"

"What more do I _want_?" she said incredulously. "As if asking you to tell me things instead of keeping them from me is such a big task! And if that's not enough, I have to _make_ you admit when you've become less than perfect for one bloody second—!"

"_Perfect? _What does me being perfect have anything to do with it?"

"Ha! See, you admit it! Why do men always have to be so arrogant?"

He scoffed. "I didn't admit the fact that I'm perfect, because I know I'm bloody well _not_! I just don't know what that has to do with the subject at hand! You're being unreasonable—"

"Oh, being _unreasonable_ now, am I?" she shouted furiously, and Remus knew at once that he'd said something wrong. "Well, maybe you being a bloody _moron _has something to do with it!"

She shot him a glare before storming out the door, slamming it shut behind her.

**Wait, I didn't mean it that way—Danger!**

The mental image of a door slamming shut in his mind made him wince again.

_And we're down one in the subtlety department. All in all, Remus, you're having one hell of a day._

He collapsed onto the nearest chair and fingered the feathers poking out of the cushion. He should've known better than to hide anything from his wife, even if it was only for a few hours. He'd got an owl this morning on the current whereabouts of the late Lord Lucius, Earl of Wiltshire, but by the way everyone, especially Danger, had been acting lately, he'd thought it wiser to put off telling until he found a way to break it to them gently. What he hadn't counted on was everyone _else _in Ottery St. Catchpole hearing about it as well…

He put his head in his hands and groaned. _Stupid, stupid man…haven't you learned your lesson yet? Never try to keep something from a wife who currently lives in your head._

He grimaced and glanced towards the corner of the room, where his violin was set against the wall. _Sounds like a good idea to me. What say you, Madame Violin?_

His hand-made instrument disdained to answer, luring him instead with it's fine wood and silver-wrought scroll. Even the gut-strings, carefully smoothed with oil and wound with the lightest sheet of metal by his grandfather sang out for him to caress them with the accompanying bow.

He smiled softly and picked it up. This violin was only one of three of its kind. It was made by his grandfather, a luthier, and passed down to him. Picking the bow up, he drew it across the strings, creating a gentle low-pitched whine.

At once, the building emotion started to drain away, until he was left with nothing at all but the notes in his head and the sound he made when transferring them from his memory to his fingers.

He closed his eyes in contentment as the melody that had been entwining itself around his mind began to resurface. Pressing his fingers firmly onto the neck of the violin, changing one note into another, he raised his bow and began to play.

* * *

Hanging from a tree branch a furlong from the Den, a foot slowly swung back and forth underneath multiple skirts and a blue cloak. The young girl attached to this foot was perched quite comfortably, her back to the tree trunk, a cat in her lap, and her nose in a book. 

"… '_Stat magni nominus umbra,'" _she read aloud, half out of habit, half out of the pleasure of hearing the Latin words roll off her tongue. She looked down at the ginger mass of fur on her lap. "It means 'There stands the ghost of a great name', Crookshanks."

He didn't answer, but continued to purr, his needle-like claws digging into her dress. Hermione Granger-Lupin scratched him between the ears fondly before going back to her book, in which she was very deeply engrossed. It was small and brown and its cover read, in faded gold peeling letters, '_Artificium Merlini'._

Hermione had thought she'd already read most of the books in Moony's small library, so she was rather surprised when she was perusing them a third time to see that she had evidently missed this one. The fact that it was written in Latin only spurred her on in her studies until she was able to translate it efficiently. And thus was she situated in a tree, twenty feet from the ground reading a book that couldn't be fathomed by most of the men of her time, let alone the likes of a fourteen-year-old girl.

She continued, slowly translating the words from Latin to English aloud.

" 'In his time, he often traveled far and wide, seeking the four to succeed him. It wasn't until the land had fallen into a lost and unbelieving state that he found them: one from the northern moors, one from the western glens, one from the southern valleys, and one from the eastern fens. With those promising four, he took them in and began to teach them all that he knew so that one day, they too would—'" she broke off as Crookshanks suddenly sat up, alert.

She cocked her head and her ears twitched ever so slightly. Then she heard it—the faint, musical whine of Moony's violin drifting from the Den. A smile slid across her face and she closed her book, slipping it into her cloak pocket.

"Come on, Crookshanks," she said, setting him on the branch next to her and standing up. "It sounds as if they're done arguing. I think it's safe to go back now."

Hermione had been in her room when she heard raised voices coming from the library. Judging by the fact that it was her older sister on a rampage, she thought it would be best to find somewhere quieter to read. She quietly walked past the closed door, heading towards the stairs, but not before she heard something that made her stop dead in her tracks.

Malfoy was only twenty miles away from the Den…from Fox…

Lucius Malfoy, the former Earl of Wiltshire, sent to the infamous Azkaban Fortress for the murder of dozens and the torture of hundreds during the last war…

_No, _she corrected herself, _Not just during the war…that was just for the stuff he got caught doing. Nobody else knows what he did to us the week he was captured…nobody else knows we were the ones who helped in the arrest. All they know was that he had captured a family, tortured them and then sold them as slaves, and then was confronted by his wife, who later sold him out to the Crown and killed herself, most likely disposing of her own son._

_That's all he got sent to the Isle for. Not for kidnapping us…not for putting Padfoot under the Cruciatus…not for Imperiusing Harry…and certainly not for setting me and Draco up for a blood ritual…_

Subconsciously, her fingers reached up and traced the faint scar running across her left cheek. The memory of that night was easily accessible in her mind. It was one of her earliest after all…she had only been five when it happened.

She recalled fear at the stranger in her home, then darkness, then waking up tied to a boy she didn't even know, one who bore striking resemblance to the man who'd taken them…

Hermione snorted as she remembered the tantrum she'd thrown. She'd been cold and scared and hungry and tied up and hadn't even seen the rest of the Pack…hadn't even known whether they were safe, or taken like she'd been. That was, until the boy had told her what happened to them.

He had seen his father's men dragging in two men, two women, and three children. There'd been another family with them, he'd reported, but they weren't taken to the dungeons with the others. Instead, Lord Lucius had brought them to the slaves' quarters, where they would be—'put in their place' were the words the boy's father had used.

Meanwhile, the Pack was split up. Padfoot and Danger had been put in a cell together, far away from Moony and Letha, who had also been left together. _Whatever he was hoping for with that, what he got was them all able to communicate and stay sane—more or less... _

The children, by contrast, had been split up completely. Lucius had housed Harry with Draco, planning on training the two boys in the way of the Dark Arts. Lessons had begun the moment Harry woke up. What he remembered of them was torturous, sometimes literally. If he had refused to learn to act like a proper lord's son, he'd been put under the Imperius. Draco had watched and learned that it was possible to defy, and when they were alone, he'd listened to stories of what the Pack was like.

Little Pearl, of course, was put under the care of the Earl's elf servant, Dobby. _Or _slave_, more like, _Neenie thought angrily, _for all the better he was treated. It's ridiculous the way these so-called 'lords' manage their household affairs. And even having a house-elf wasn't enough for him! He had to have dozens more slaves to work his lands…no one else would, the arrogant vulture. _

She seethed about the loathsome man a bit more before going back to the night of the escape from his Manor, and what he had planned for the Pack-parents. _Padfoot he was going to send back to Azkaban Isle…I never quite heard what he was going to do with Letha and Pearl—what he started doing, actually, but the process was never finished—but it must have been awful for them not to have ever told us. And Moony…_Her stomach clenched. _We were captured for seven days leading up to the full moon…if we hadn't escaped when we did…_

She hadn't heard about what was going on right before their capture until she was quite a bit older, but when she did, she understood why. What the Earl had planned for Moony and Danger was inevitable—he had locked them together in a cage on the day of the full moon, which in itself had caused them only fear of having her werewolf-taming abilities discovered. But what they hadn't planned on was Lucius knocking Danger out shortly before moonrise. When she was unconscious, her unusual abilities—including her werewolf-taming—ceased to work.

If Padfoot and Letha hadn't escaped with the help of Narcissa, Danger would have died that night and Moony shortly thereafter. As it was, Lucius had been called away at the last minute, much to his displeasure, for he had so wanted to watch the ravaged werewolf tear up someone it loved.

Hermione plucked a small twig from beside her and started breaking it into smaller pieces. _She_ knew what had drawn Lucius' attention away. Her lips pulled back a little at the memory….

She had woken up after their kidnapping not a few hours later like everyone else, but a few _days_ later. For what Lucius had been planning was a blood-ritual between the Girl Who Was Saved and his son, and he needed to make certain necessary precautions and go through proscribed steps before he did it. Thus, he had kept her unconscious for days while he ran a few…_tests…_before everything was ready and she awakened, tied to Draco.

The blood-ritual was what had called Lucius away from his entertainment. The blood-bonding between his son and Neenie was fully completed. All he had to do was administer the separate potions to both of them…first the potion that would open their blood link successfully, allowing Draco to drain away her magical abilities, then the time-delayed poison that would damage her brain and then slowly kill her.

But he never did administer them, for by the time he arrived, they had already been untied, thanks to Harry, who had been informed by Dobby when his sister awakened. All three of them bowled at the Earl's legs and knocked him over, rendering _him_ unconscious, then collected Pearl from Dobby's custody and set off through the labyrinth of the Manor to look for the Pack-parents.

_And the rest is history. Narcissa traded her husband and herself for our escape, and the Pack-parents, in turn, raised up her son as their own…the Earl and the Countess were denounced of their titles and sent to the Azkaban Fortress, when Narcissa soon died…and Lucius…_

Her face contorted and she threw the shredded-up twig aside angrily. _The hateful man escaped from that confounded isle naught but ten years after being there. And now he's on the loose again…_

She sighed sadly and stood up on the branch, brushing herself off, when a sharp scream sounded in the distance, startling her so badly she nearly fell. Whipping her head around for the source of the screech, she was considerably relieved when she saw a hawk soaring in the sky, turning sharply in a steep dive.

"It's only a hawk…gracious, it scared me out of my skin!" she breathed, her hand on her pendants, which had warmed for a minute. "Honestly, though! That fool of a bird….I could have fallen!"

Grumbling, she began the descent down, which wasn't helped when Crookshanks grumpily mewed in protest, no doubt wondering why she wasn't carrying him down.

"_I_ didn't carry you up here," she snapped at him, rolling her eyes. "You did that all on your own, thanks, so now it's up to you to get yourself down again. And stop looking at me like that! You're fully capable of it, now do it! Climbing up here with a dress on was bad enough, but having to climb back down again one-handed while trying to hold a fat cat…"

She scowled, when a thought hit her. _Cats are made for climbing trees, anyway. With the way their limbs are situated and their claws come out…hmm…no wonder I like it so much…_

She grinned, remembering just months ago when the cubs had started learning to become Animagi like their parents…looking into the mirror and seeing a calico cat looking right back at her.

_I'm done with all of my transformations. All I have left now is to write down my final incantation and take the potion. Letha says it should be ready tomorrow. _

She nearly squealed at the thought of being able to change forms once and for all. Harry really wasn't too far behind her; all he had left to work on was doing his head successfully and his tail…far too many times had he been stuck in human body with a wolf's tail sticking out of his trousers, waiting until Moony was free to come and relieve him.

And Draco…Neenie shook her head and sighed. Draco hadn't been doing well at all since they'd heard of his father's escape. He just couldn't concentrate, even though he knew it was all the more important now for him to be able to change, should Lucius Malfoy ever come and try to claim him.

_But he won't! _Neenie reminded herself adamantly as she jumped from the lowest branch to the ground, Crookshanks plopping down beside her. _The wards around the Den are too strong. There's no way anyone can get around them _and _the Fidelius _and _the blood wards…it's impossible!_

She took a deep breath and, having fully convinced herself of this fact, she dusted herself off and lifted her head up in the air. It was when she had done this that she noticed a cluster of irises around a grassy mound of earth further in the glade.

_Odd…irises don't bloom in the fall…_

Curious, she headed deeper into the forest towards them, further from the Den until she reached the cluster of flowers. They were bearded irises, she could tell, and all of them had the same tri-colored scheme: creamy white, bright orange, and a dark, almost black hue deep in the center. They reminded her of something, but she couldn't remember what it was, exactly.

Oh well…whatever it was mustn't have mattered too much, or else she wouldn't have forgot.

She bent down and plucked a few of them, thinking how well they'd look in a pitcher on the kitchen table. She ignored the slight shiver she got that seemed to come from the mound itself and straightened up, inhaling deeply. The irises smelled like a breath of spring air amidst the orange-and-red-clad forest. But there was something else she smelled that she couldn't quite place…

"Come on, Crookshanks! We'll be late!" she said.

Crookshanks picked his way around the already fallen leaves and started sniffing around the clearing. When he got closer to the mound, his body tensed and his fur bristled and he stared at it with glowing eyes.

Hermione rolled her eyes, tucked the irises in her pocket, and picked him up. "I said come _on_! I don't want them to worry and besides, I'm starving."

And with that, she started off towards the Den, lugging her ginger cat, some calico irises and a book in her cloak pocket.

* * *

Meghan stepped delicately around the sharper rocks, not wishing to get an open cut in salt water. It wasn't long before she reached a boulder that jutted out over the water, overlooking the sea. 

Out of all the special places the cubs had found since they came to the Marauders' Den, this had to be her favorite.

It didn't take long for her to find the familiar handholds and start to climb it. When she reached the top, a fantastic view spread out before her. The small, choppy waves glimmered first a cerulean, then a cobalt blue underneath an endless sky. The sea seemed to go on for ages and ages beyond what her eyes could see, and made her feel a lot smaller, which made her scowl.

_I'm not small, I'm just short, so there!_

To prove her point, she stuck out her tongue at nothing in particular. Satisfied, she sat back on her heels and commenced her favorite pastime—mermaid-gazing.

Neenie had been the first to catch her at this, and she'd tutted and started on a tirade of how Pearl's chances on seeing one were a hundred to one.

"Pearl, the possibilities of you finding a mermaid in these parts are a hundred to one. The closest mermaid sighting was fifty miles from here, and even that was five years ago. So I think you're wasting your time up there," she had said.

To which Meghan had just scowled and said, "Well in the five years since then, a mermaid _could _have swum fifty miles, thank you."

Hermione'd snorted. "Perhaps if she had a broken tail fin."

_Well, even if she did, I wouldn't mind. Maybe I could even try healing her, _Meghan thought, beaming. And with this she pulled out the small telescope she'd got last birthday and squinted into it.

She couldn't see anything at first but water. Lots and lots of water. Once or twice she would see a splash off into the distance, and she'd sit up, alert. But it turned out to be only a fish or a seabird and she'd sit back dejectedly.

"Oh, I'm never going to get to find anything good," she pouted, which really wasn't true. She had found something spectacular once, when they had first discovered the cove. And she was only five when it happened, too. Harry and Draco both reassured her that they had never found anything like that until they were much older.

Still, she thought, even _that _wasn't as good as the Philosopher's Stone Harry'd found when he was eleven. She, Draco, and Neenie had helped in the finding, true, but he was the one who actually got to hold it and discover it and battle dangers and fire in order to get it and…and…

But then, said the more reasonable part in her mind, which sounded oddly like Mama Letha, what you found in the secret tunnel in the cove _was _pretty valuable in and of itself. And getting to it_ was_ pretty dangerous and adventurous…sort of.

Meghan grinned, remembering.

* * *

Aletha Freeman-Black loved her husband to death, but there were times when she thought death might be more preferable. Especially where food was concerned. 

"These rolls look a bit…black."

"I know, and I'm not putting out any forks, which means that I don't expect any of you to eat them."

"Mmm…these apples are delicious, but they could use a bit more flavoring, I think."

"They're _apples_, Sirius. What do you expect?"

"And these carrots are a bit too crunchy for my liking…"

"So don't eat them."

"But this water…does it taste a little bit stale to you, because I can't for the life of me figure out if it had this tang to it last time I drank it. You didn't poison it by any chance?"

"So you've noticed," she said dryly. "Is there anything else you think I might have missed while making dinner, wise Merlin, or do you think you've covered it all?"

He looked up at her sour expression and smiled cheekily. "No, thank you, Morganna, but I'm sure that about covers everything. How else may I be of service? Ah! But I haven't even come to the best part!"

He spotted a kettle hanging above the fire and hastened to sample that as well. Keeping his face carefully neutral, he sipped some from the ladle under her watchful eye.

She certainly wasn't fond of cooking; in fact, she burnt the things she made more likely than not. Luckily the Pack did not depend on her cooking skills, of that she was thankful for. Now, however, the cook of the household had fled in a fit of rage and it was all up to her to deliver.

"Well, your majesty? Have I exceeded your expectations with this one?" she asked him, then rolled her eyes. "Oh, why am I asking you anyway, you halfwit?"

"Excuse me?"

"You're excused. Now go find Meghan and tell her to come and get some dinner. I'll get the boys, and I see that Hermione is making her way down already," said Aletha, peering out the window.

He lingered beside the food, staring at it wistfully despite his earlier accusations. Picking up the broom, she advanced on him menacingly. "Scram, I say!"

Sirius changed forms and bounded out of sight. Letha grinned. "Now that he's gone…"

She strode over to the cupboard and pulled out the one thing she managed to get right today.

_At least I'm not totally worthless in the kitchen. If there's one thing I know how to make, it's cherry pie._

She looked at it proudly and inhaled deeply. Then she pulled out a towel and covered it before placing it back in the cupboard, sealing the door with a simple spell.

_Knowing that husband of mine…_

Satisfied, she turned back to the pot hanging above the fire and turned her attention to what Remus was playing. It was neither a fast or slow song but it had a sweet melancholy feel to it that seemed to speak of a far-off place and a lonely people. Yet it was within the words, as sad as they seemed, that Letha found solace.

With a low voice, she began to sing along with the tune he played.

"_Out of night has come the day,_

_Out of night, our small earth."_

She pulled out her wand and carefully levitated the pot off the fire and onto the table. In her mind's eye she saw not a kitchen in bright sunlight, but valleys lit by a pale moon, shining down on a fallen civilization trying to find their way home.

"_Our words drift away,_

_Our words journey,_

_To find those who will listen."_

The violin's sweet whine echoed throughout the otherwise empty house. A cloud had crossed between sun and earth, casting a shadow over the Den. But within a few seconds it was gone and the chorus had begun.

"_We call out into the distance…_

_We call out into the distance…_

_We call out into the distance…"_

Letha set the rest of the food on the table and began to wash her hands in the basin. The cool water washed over her dark skin.

"_Less than a pearl in a sea of stars,_

_We are a lost island in the shadows."_

The words struck her and her thoughts drifted to her husband and their own little Pearl.

"_It may be our words become lost._

_It may be our words find nothing…find no one…"_

She felt a twinge of sadness at this as she held the last note…then broke off. Remus kept playing, the lone harmony going unaccompanied into the chorus one last time…

Letha blinked the tears from her eyes and dried her hands. She glanced at the set table and went outside to get Draco and Harry, the sound of the bow drawing across the strings in one final note following her out.

* * *

Back when the cubs were first exploring the rocky shore near their new den…back when Draco had spotted a cave further down the beach next to the larger rocks… 

When they got there and climbed inside, they were amazed at their find. "It's gi_nor_mous!" Neenie breathed.

"And look how deep it goes!" Draco said. "There could be tunnels and tunnels! They could go in so deep, they might even run right underneath the Den!"

Meghan squealed at the thought of having a secret tunnel like this right beneath her bedroom.

But Harry was having different thoughts. "This must be a secret cove!" he said excitedly. "Pirates might have come here to empty the booty they got from pillaging off of other sailors. Hey! Maybe there's still some left!"

The cubs' eyes went big and they immediately ran about looking for a secret tunnel, a carefully dug hole, a hidden room, a mysterious engraving on the cave walls…

It wasn't long before Harry gave a shout from one of the tunnels he'd been searching. Draco, Neenie, and Pearl scrambled after him. He was standing at the very end of the tunnel, staring into a small crevice in the rock.

"Do you see anything?" Draco asked.

"The tunnel keeps going in there and I think I see something gleaming. You're small than me and Draco, Neenie, you can probably squeeze through," said Harry.

Neenie eyed the crack and shook her head. "I suppose I could, but just barely, and the tunnel probably narrows further on. Do you think you can do it, Pearl?"

Hazel, green, and blue eyes all turned to her.

"_Me?" _she squeaked. Three heads nodded encouragingly.

"We'll be right here the whole time, Pearl."

"And if you get scared or it gets too tight, you can always come back."

"I can even hold up a light in there so you can see better, if you want."

"Please? We _need_ you! None of us can do it, you're the only one who can!"

She looked at them and nodded nervously. Inside she was beaming with delight at the thought of them needing her so much they'd let her do something like this, because even though they always tried to include her in a lot of stuff, sometimes she felt like she was tagging along and they were just putting up with her.

Draco reached out and squeezed her shoulder and cautiously she ducked her head and stepped into the crevice.

It was moist in there…moist and dark because her body was blocking out most of the sunlight shining in. She heard a crackling behind her and suddenly everything was much more illuminated. Glancing behind her, she saw Harry directing a small ball of flames over her head and into the tunnel.

"Go on," he whispered, the light dancing on the glass of his spectacles.

She smiled gratefully and pressed forward one step at a time, trying to ignore the way her shadow stretched out in front of her like a black hand grasping at whatever light it could find. Likewise, she turned a deaf ear to the eerie sound of dripping water and a faint scratching noise. That was probably just Neenie grinding her teeth, she reasoned, which wasn't scary in the least once you thought about it.

The walls started closing in on her, just like Neenie predicted. Pressing herself against the wall, she squeezed along until the tunnel widened and she saw exactly what it was that Harry had seen.

Caught on a jagged rock was a small and dirty string of round rocks. Puzzled, she reached out a hand and took them up, scratching at them with her finger until the dirt fell away. She gasped at the dull white sheen underneath and realized what she was holding.

_Pearls._

"What is it, Pearl? Did you find it yet?" Harry called down the tunnel, his voice echoing around her.

She giggled nervously. "I-I found it! I'm coming out now!"

She slid the bracelet of pearls around her wrist and looked at it fondly. It seemed as if it was made just for her. Then, tucking the hand with the bracelet on it in her cloak pocket, she set back off towards the others.

They gathered around her when she came out and she held it up, feeling like she had just completed a great feat.

"Ohh! This could be worth Galleons! We could be rich!" Harry said excitedly, vanishing his fire-ball with a showy flick of his wrist.

"We are already, remember? What with your vault and Fox's and Padfoot's, we might as well be. The parents just choose to spend it wisely, that's all," said Hermione.

"Yeah, that and because everyone thinks Padfoot and Moony are in hiding and don't want to draw attention to themselves _and_ that I'm dead…and it would look pretty funny if a dead boy just waltzed right into Gringotts and asked very politely if he could have his key, please," Draco added as an afterthought.

Neenie shoved him lightly. "You know what I mean."

"Oh I do, do I? What, can you read my mind now, or something?" he teased, knowing very well the answer.

"Or something," said Harry absent-mindedly, still staring around the cove with a look in his eyes that Pearl knew full well. Draco and Neenie continued bickering as Meghan moved next to him.

"Whatcha thinking about?" she said with a smile.

"Oh…" he shrugged nonchalantly. "Nothing. Just thinking about how cool it would be if this place really did belong to pirates…and they had to clear this cove out because it was discovered and not secret any more…and it wasn't until they were further out to sea that they remembered they had forgot their most precious prize of all….the pearls!"

"And then," Meghan continued excitedly, "they had to turn back to come and get them, but when they got here…they had to face down four of the most fearsome pirates of the seven seas!"

Harry grinned, getting into the spirit of it. "But the most dreadful of all was the smallest of the four…for she was the one known by all as the Black Pearl! And they faced her and wilted in her wrath, for she had promised to guard the pearls from the very scum they were…and then…they fought!"

Draco and Neenie stopped bickering long enough to hear the tale the two were spinning up and came up to join them. "Ah, but ye've forgot one of the most important of them all!" Neenie said, catching the spirit of the game. "For the dangerous pirate rogue Greeneyes has the tongue of a snake and the heart of a lion. He fears no man, but all fear him, for he not only can wield a sword better than any other, but he can also breathe fire as good as any dragon!"

"Aye…but it's the claws of the Cat o' Nine Tails you most want to be avoidin' now," Draco growled, advancing on Neenie. "She's a feisty one and can fight twice as well as any bilge rat...especially when you be lettin' her near any piece of wood or whip, for she can do terrible wonders you can't even imagine. But if you be her shipmate, whatever you do, never _ever _let her come within a furlong of a book…for they are her true weakness and she can only be tamed by them."

Meghan pretended to swoon in Draco's arms. "Oh, save me from the monstrosities!" she cooed. "Are you the only one who has yet to be captivated by the life of a pirate?"

"Oho!" Harry leapt to her side and seized her from his Pack-brother before anything could happen. "But he is one too! Where would the Captain Greeneyes be without his loyal right-hand man? I would stay clear of this menacing pirate before he could silence you with his death rays, if I were you…"

"For that is exactly what they call him!" Neenie said, a sudden inspiration lighting her face. "The dreaded and all-powerful Death Ray!"

"Aye!" Draco shouted, grinning at his new name. "And together the four make the fearsome pirate Marauders who shall forever guard their Marauders' Cove and the treasure they find within! Give three cheers for the pearls! Hip hip—"

"Huzzah!"

"Hip hip—"

"Huzzah!"

Hip hip—"

"HUZZAH!" The cubs cheered and Harry started to sing a song Padfoot had taught them, that seemed just fitting for this occasion.

"_We're the crew of the good ship Marauder_

_And we pillage and steal when we can"_

The other three picked up the next few notes and bellowed it out lustily to its jaunty tune, dancing around the rocks and acting like little imps.

"_We're the crew of the good ship Marauder_

_And we're honest and true to a man!"_

"Wait, wait, but you two aren't men, are you?" Harry said, gesturing to Neenie and Pearl.

Neenie rolled her eyes. "Well, neither are you!" she retorted and poked at his stomach.

"_We're the crew of the good ship Marauder,_

_And we'll come at you out of the night._

_We'll steal all your sails and damage your rails_

_And leave your ship not watertight!_

"_We're the crew of the good ship Marauder,_

_And we're pirates – aye, that's what we be!_

_We will drink and we'll dance and we'll take off your pants_

_And we'll throw you right into the sea!_

"_We're the crew of the good ship Marauder,_

_And we always do just as we should,_

_We're the crew of the good ship Marauder..._

_And we solemnly swear that we're up to no good!"_

* * *

Meghan stood up on her large rock and did a little dance at the remembrance of the pearls and the Marauders' Cove. She started to sing a bit of the Marauder song and twirled around, watching her shift fly about her—when she saw a figure standing on the shore watching her. 

She jumped backwards, surprised, and her foot slipped. With a squeak of alarm, she tumbled down into the water.

_Coldcoldcoldcoldcold!_

She kicked off from the bottom and reached the surface, spluttering, shivering and glaring at her father, who had doubled up with laughter as she dog-paddled to stay above water. Treading water, she climbed back onto a rock and started to make her way back to the shore, gripping her bare arms tightly.

"Dadfoot!" she screeched when she reached him. "You scared me _and _you made me all wet!"

He just chuckled.

"As if you weren't already, Pearl. I know your habits. If there were ever anything to be put on, you'd just as soon chuck it right back off again," he said, looking around at the scattered remnants of her clothes on the rocky beach. "And it seems that's exactly what you did…"

Dripping wet, Meghan just crossed her arms and glared at him, drawing herself up to her full height…which wasn't much.

"You're mean," she said.

"And you're being insolent. That's not a very nice tone to use when your father's blackmailing you, you know. Why, I've half a mind to tell your Mama Letha what exactly it is you're doing down here on the beach, anyway. She doesn't like it when you strip in public and treat your clothes this way." He grabbed her dress off of the rock.

She scowled and snatched the dress out of his hands. "An empty beach is not public! I was quite alone until _you _came along…and you're not public either. You're a dog."

Dadfoot snorted. "Can't argue with that logic. Do you know what your mother would say if she saw you down in here in naught but your under-dress?"

"Yes, and that's why you won't be telling her," said Meghan, wringing out her wet fabric.

"Oh I won't, will I?"

"No. You won't. Because _I _know who it was who ate all the turnips in Mama Letha's garden, and it _wasn't _the horse."

He looked affronted. "Now who's blackmailing whom?"

She just grinned at him smugly and pulled on the dress Aunt Andy made over her head. "Don't look!"

He shook his head and grinned, turning away and muttering, "Marauder through and through, she is…"

But due to the wet fabric and the fact that the dress was just a tad too small, it stopped at her midriff. Frustrated, she struggled with the fabric, but had to stop when she couldn't wiggle any more.

"Listen, young lady, how about we come to an agreement? I won't tell her about you undressing on the beach if you won't tell her about me eating her turnips. Agreed?" he said, then turned around to see her predicament.

"You don't need help by any chance, do you?" he asked nonchalantly, walking around her.

"_No! _I can do it my_self_, thanks!"

Dadfoot shrugged. "If you insist," he said then turned and started to walk away.

"Wait!"

He stopped. "Yes?"

The dress muttered under its breath, then said out loud, "I need help."

"Oh, you do, do you? That's nice. I'll just go and see if I can find someone to help you. There should be _someone _else on this beach…" he peered up and down the empty beach.

The grumbling in the dress increased. "Fine, then! I need help, _please!"_

"Since you asked so nicely," he said, and proceeded to tug the dress down bit by bit. A minute later, a disheveled head that looked a lot like Meghan appeared in the neckline of the purple dress.

"There. _Now _we can go!" she said, and started to walk up the pathway.

"Oho, no we can't! First of all, I'm not going to take a grumpy little girl up with me when there was a happy one that came down. Poor Letha would be frightened out of her wits if I did. Second of all, we're not going to be leaving a pair of good stockings out for the sea birds. I doubt they'd look as good in them as my Pearl does. And _third_ of all, however good of a home these two little boots might make for a pair of newly-wed crabs, I can think of someone who'd be a lot more crabby if they were somehow 'lost'."

She sighed angrily and grabbed them from him, yanking them on. "Fine! Make me wear them! I thought you were the easy one, anyway?"

"_I'm_ the easy one?" he yelped, then grabbed her and put his hand over her mouth. "Shh! Before anyone else hears you say that. We don't want people finding that out, just yet! It's supposed to be a secret!"

A giggle escaped through his fingers and he knew he'd done his job. He took his hand away and she retorted, "Well, if _that _isn't the worst-kept secret of the century!"

Dadfoot picked her up and she squealed. "Well, if_ you_ aren't the worst blabber-mouth in the world!" he teased.

She threw her arms around him and let him carry her back up the path, just like she was a little girl again.

"Love you, Dadfoot."

"Love you, too, Pearl."

* * *

_**Author's Note:** I would just like to have it down for the record that I am no longer writing this story. It is officially it's own author. The characters have decided, without my permission, how it is they want to talk and what exactly they have in mind to say. So please excuse them for this and note that whatever it is they do in here was not my doing! I am just an innocent bystander reading this story, just like you and should thus recieve no credit, whatsoever, for what happens. _

_/me grins._

_I hope you've enjoyed it. Also, as several people have already pointed out, there are a few things that have been invented or discovered a lot earlier in this world that haven't even been thought of yet until some times centuries later in ours. There are several reasons for this, mostly because magic really advances a civilization...in fact, I would be really surprised if they _hadn't _learned to change and invent new magical ways somewhat to make their living situation a lot easier for them. And for a lot of inventions, such as the violin, it is my belief that if you were to place the inventor of that idea in an earlier time then he would be able to make a rougher replica of that instrument. _

_Granted, some of the tools used for making such a device might not be around, as would some of the inspirations for the evolution of the instrument. But as I said before, magic changes a lot of things, including the way you think and work. Thus have I made Remus' grandfather be one of the inventors and inspirers for the evolution of the violin. Of course, the one Remus has in this verse can only resemble the ones we have now somewhat, but that's how the world revolves. _

_However! Not everything can be invented centuries earlier with the use of magic, just so you know! For instance, there's no way, I'm going to make Sirius a type-writer for this verse, if only for the fact that everything used to _make _one won't be found until much, much later. People here are _not _going to be walking around with cell phones and sitting in their living rooms with the telly on! Some things I will allow if it's within common sense and my ability to make it. (With a violin, all you really need are the right kinds of wood, ivory, silver, goat-skin, and the tools to make it turn out so finely shaped...whereas, with a type-writer, the only kinds that can be made are the mechanical, electromechanical, and electronic kind, and seeing as how there's no electricity, and the only really advanced mechanisms at this time are the workings of the clock...well, I'd have a pretty hard time trying to pull that off, wouldn't I?) _

_And sorry if I seemed to go off on a tangent, there, but I just thought you'd ought to know. SO, any further questions about anything, just ask me via email or PM or review and I'm sure I'll be able to give you an answer. So thanks! And don't forget to review!_

_Oh, and this is a belated birthday present for my Peile (the 17th) and Ceithi (the 13th). Happy belated, you two._

_Cheers!_


	3. Ch 2 The Heart of the Lion

_**Disclaimer: **The standard disclaimer is applied, plus one. This chapter was beta-ed and part co-written by Anne Walsh (Whydoyouneedtoknow), who helped me get over my block for this numerous times and even wrote a few parts herself. Cheers to her! And a few lines in here weren't coined by me (you'll notice them when you see them, I trust)..._

_Now, please, let me bore you no longer. On to the story!_

* * *

A PACK APART

* * *

**Chapter Two: The Heart of the Lion**

Golden-clawed feet curled upon the lush rug, supporting the large, crimson armchair and its current occupant, well settled in its depths. Sleeting fall rain drummed against the window panes and clinked against the shingles of the low, sloping roofs outside. But in the hearth, a fire was blazing merrily, crackling and popping every few minutes as time went by in that comfortably spacious office.

Outside the weather was miserable. But that did not have to account for the goings-on of the stately quarters of Hogwarts Castle.

The Lord Albus, Duke of Dumbledoreshire, was enjoying himself quite nicely as he sat at his large desk, looking through the half-moon spectacles perched on the bridge of his elongated nose at the parchment in his hands. His own writing, long and curled, scrawled across the paper in even strokes, stared back at him. The emerald ink glistened as the firelight danced across the page, highlighting the finer points of this composition.

The parchment rustled in his hands as he blew softly on the ink in order to dry it. Then with a small "Ah!" he remembered one last thing and hastened to add a postscript at the bottom of the small scroll. Satisfied, he set it down and reached for the small bowl of almonds beside him.

He popped a few in his mouth, then heard an inquiring chirp to his right. There, on a perch a few feet from the ground, sat a magnificent bird of a gold and crimson plumage. It looked at the almonds in its master's hand and trilled again.

"Hungry, are you?" Lord Albus asked, looking at the phoenix with a twinkle. "I know how much you adore almonds, my old friend…you take after my own heart."

The phoenix took flight and alighted on the desk beside the aged wizard, who raised his hand and stroked the bird as he ate.

"We've been through a lot together, you and I," he said softly, gazing into Fawkes' obsidian eyes. "I remember the first day I met you, perched upon his shoulder…you miss him, don't you?"

Fawkes trilled mournfully, remembering his former master, and his eyes flitted to the large portrait on the stone wall behind Albus's chair. It was one Albus had gazed upon countless times himself, and even conversed with, should the occasion permit. It was the copy of the home in which a great man once resided. Oftimes he could be seen in flowing, blood-red robes beside a grand fireplace, two children in his lap and a woman curled up beside him…other times was he solitarily sitting at his desk, busy with the parchment before him, snapping his fingers idly to reveal flames dancing atop the tip of his finger…only to have it vanish with the flick of his wrist.

All that could be seen in the portrait now, however, was a comfortable little room filled with shelves half-stocked on books and half on other curious objects and instruments, a desk, an empty armchair, and an eternal fire dancing merrily in its grate, not unlike the Duke's own.

A knock on his grand office doors pulled Lord Albus out of his thoughts. "Come in!"

The machinations of his spiral staircase began whirring in motion and the large golden wings of the finely sculpted griffin statue moved aside to reveal his dear friend and colleague, the Dame Minerva.

A tall woman with small, square spectacles and graying hair tightly pulled back into a bun, the Marchioness of the Castle was not to be crossed. Most usually she wore no-nonsense dresses with dark robes, and today was no different; a sage tweed dress was partly hidden beneath her stiff gray traveling cloak and she wore black pointed shoes, while atop her head perched a similar black hat. With a firm resolve and a stern countenance, she swept into the room, her brow furrowed.

"Ah, Minerva! Back from your trip to Longbottomshire already, I see. We weren't expecting you for another week…the journey was pleasurable, I hope?" he said amiably, standing up to greet her.

"Horrible," she replied, stripping herself of her gloves and cloak and sitting down in the chair in front of him. "Why I chose to go there by carriage continues to elude me. It only makes sense, as advanced as we are to create _some_ means of instant traveling instead of simply depending upon a nocuously-conceived, uncomfortable horse-drawn box on wheels…I nearly became sick on my way there and certainly did on my way back."

Albus could indeed detect a rawness around her nose as she drew out a handkerchief and blew on it loudly. "If it's any consolation, my dear, that exact form of traveling has been brewing about in my head for quite some time," he said in an effort to cheer her up.

"Everything brews in that head of yours," Minerva said stuffily, blowing her nose once more.

"But this would work, my dear. I see no reason why the next witch or wizard shouldn't be able to turn around three times, say a few words of nonsense, then disappear from that room entirely and reappear altogether some hundred furlongs away, if that is what they chose. I know of one other who could, in fact, but he unfortunately did not wish to divulge any such information as to how it is accomplished."

Minerva sighed wearily. "Oh, please be reasonable, Albus, and stop making light of my predicament. I did not come here to converse about such whimsical fancies as your mind deems fit to conjure, but rather on some unsettling news I stumbled across while I was away."

"And your news cannot wait until you have rested from your travels and treated your sickness in your own rooms? You have been away for quite some time, after all, and I would hate to see you become worse now that you are back."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, I have aged two months since last you saw me, Albus, not two decades! Just because I am slightly under the weather, it does not mean that I am not perfectly capable of holding a decent conversation. I'm not a hundred years old yet—no offense meant," she added, glancing at him.

Albus chuckled. "None taken. Might I trouble you with a small drink at least, before we begin?"

The Dame Minerva nodded in the assent.

Her wise superior raised his head and said, in a voice not meant for her, "Dobby, would you come here, please?"

There was a small _pop _and a small greenish creature appeared with large ears, rather bulbous-looking eyes, and an expression of fervent adoration on his face. "Yes, Master Albus, sir?" Dobby the house-elf squeaked.

"If you could kindly nip down to the kitchens, I'd like a tall glass of elderberry wine and Minerva here—"

"Chamomile tea, please, and some ginger snaps," said Minerva.

"Yes, sir! Dobby is gladly doing this for you, sir, and is very happy Master Albus has chosen Dobby for helping him, great wizard that he is, sir!"

"Thank you, Dobby," Lord Albus chuckled and, with another _pop, _the house-elf vanished.

As soon as they were once more alone in the Duke's chamber, the Dame Minerva turned to her friend and asked anxiously, "Is it true that Lord Gerald and his daughter have disappeared?"

Albus' expression suddenly turned a bit graver and the twinkle in his eyes dimmed considerably as he inclined his head. "Yes, it is. I had warned him about something happening to this degree quite soon after Lord Lucius's escape, and had wanted him to at least bring his daughter here to safety, if not himself. However, it was upon their journey up that his carriage was besieged upon and their footmen and guards killed. Lord Gerald and his daughter were nowhere to be found when we looked and I have no doubt in my mind now that they have indeed been taken."

Minerva gasped and her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, that poor, dear child," she said. "I suppose it is too much to hope that _he_ hasn't found out about her remarkable ability? What with the basilisk incident a few years ago and her involvement in it, as closed as we have been about the subject…do you think he has found out about it and that is why he has taken them so soon after his escape?"

The Lord Albus, Duke of Dumbledoreshire, gave a great sigh and selected another almond from his glass bowl. But rather than eating it as he would have done earlier, he simply studied it and played with it in his hand, thinking about his answer. Fawkes flew back to his golden perch across the room and proceeded in tucking his head under his wing in order to take a small nap.

Just then, Dobby appeared at his elbow, a silver tray in his long-fingered hands.

"Here is what you wanted, Master Albus, sir! Made especially by us elves, sir…'tis very good indeed!" he said breathlessly, giving Albus his tall glass then trotting over to offer the tray to Minerva as well. "And here's your tea, missus, and your snaps, and all us elves is wanting you to get better quickly, missus! We is not wanting you to be sick much longer, but we is very glad to help you if you are, missus, yes we are! And Dobby's friend Biddy would just like missus to know that your bags have been brought to your rooms, just as you asked, missus."

"Erm, thank you…Dobby," Minerva said, accepting the tea and breathing in its hot scent.

"And if ever you need anything, we is here to help! Yes, we is… 'tis what us house-elves are good at, it is!" And with that, he was gone as quickly as he had come.

Albus gave a small smile, then turned back to the Marchioness and took a sip from his wine glass, sampling its refined sweet-yet-bitter taste. He mulled about the best way to answer her question as he turned the glass in his hands.

"We do not know…" he finally said slowly, continuing their conversation, "nor can we tell what exactly pressed Lord Lucius, lately Earl of Wiltshire, to strike so quickly, regardless of being found out so soon. He risked giving away his exact location because of that and now…well, now it seems that he is bent on reaching the Den as soon as possible and becoming rather reckless in doing so. He has been sighted a fair few times, enough for soldiers of the Crown to track him down and for our own Order to predict his next move and hopefully stop him before he gets too far…."

He paused for a bit, then continued. "Alastor has sent word that they are scouting the area he was rumored to be last. They were hoping to catch him before he entered Devon. They of course do not know where it is he is headed, nor what it is he really wants, but Alastor understands that we must catch him before it is too late."

Albus stood up abruptly and walked over to the window, gazing out thoughtfully. "I know that there is more to this puzzle than meets the eye…if only I can figure it out before it is too late…"

Minerva tutted. "Oh, Albus, don't hurt yourself over it. Even if he is able to sneak past the Crown and the Order, he has no hope of finding out the exact location of the Den. He may know the general area in which they are hiding, but he cannot know _where_ precisely. You, yourself, was there to oversee the Fidelius Charm performed…and besides that, there are more than just the standard wards guarding over the Marauders' Den…_you _made sure of that!"

"Oh, and speaking of which…" Albus said, turning from the window. "How was your visit with the Lord Francis and Lady Alice? They are strengthening their own wards, are they not, and taking the necessary precautions?"

"Yes, indeed, they are. You have no cause to worry. When I left them, not even a week ago, they were taking in at least a dozen more guards if not more, provided by the Crown. They've been taking them in gradually and daren't ask for any more, for fear of anyone hearing, least of all Lord Lucius, and becoming suspicious," Minerva answered, taking another sip of her tea.

"Yes, that is what I fear the most," said Albus quietly. "And how are they holding up?"

"As well as can be expected, considering the fact that they are harboring this secret and the singularly greater threat that hangs over this country. Even their son Neville, although he does not know the dangers they are facing, looked far graver than I expected any boy his age to look."

"Then his parents did not wish you to take him back with you, as I had hoped?" he asked.

Minerva sniffled and blew her nose again before answering. "No, actually, it was the boy who adamantly refused. His parents thought it would be for the best, but he refused to leave them for any sort of reason they came up with. In the end, they asked me to leave without him, and I sincerely pray that no harm will befall them. If anything were ever to happen to them or their boy, I would never forgive myself."

Albus looked at her as she stared into her cup, her head lowered. He would not have been surprised to find her eyes a bit watery. Ever since he had met her, he knew that her rather austere façade towards young delinquents and mischief-makers of all ages had no chance of facing how she really felt for them underneath.

He could have told her that he was sure that if Lucius Malfoy ever found out that the Pack was under the Fidelius and the Longbottoms' were indeed their Secret Keepers, he would do everything in his power to make them divulge their information…for Lord Albus knew that with a wand and the training of the Dark Arts, one could do far more unspeakable and tortuous things than the mind could ever fathom…

However, he somehow did not think that saying this would help the matter any, so he softly set his half-empty wine glass on the edge of his desk and cleared his throat.

"Then all we can do now is wait, and hope that it is enough," he murmured.

He stared out over the rain-drenched grounds of the Castle Hogwarts. The lake far to his right took on a mesmerizing, studded surface and a faint mist was spreading just inches above it.

In his mind's eye, he could see children running about and jumping in the streams and rivulets the water made, as they no doubt would have done back when the castle was open as a school for all children. However, those days were now long gone, thanks to the Crown. He still took in many families, both common and nobility, as he could until his castle was nearly brimming...and he was still permitted to educate all those within his lands on fighting the Dark Arts and preparing themselves for the war he knew was inevitable….

But he also knew that with Lord Voldemort lurking his time away and becoming stronger with each passing day, it was vital that he remain in the kingdom's good graces, which meant waiting to open up the school again until as much time had passed as the Crown saw fit.

He could only hope that he would still have the chance to prepare as many as he could before war broke out full-fledged among them and all was too late.

Behind him, the fire was still crackling merrily in its hearth.

* * *

October sunlight shone through the small gathering of clouds and lighted upon two figures facing each other, a gleam in their eyes and swords in their hands. Their attire was made specifically for what they were undergoing and, judging by the sweat on their brows and the gasps they were taking, they had been at it for quite some time. 

"Well, now, I really must admit that you have lasted far longer than I thought you would, my good man," the dark-haired one called out.

His fair opponent smirked. "And _I _must admit that your arms aren't quite as puny as they look. Perhaps there's some strength behind this one yet!"

"What ho! Dost mine ears deceive me? Is it possible that such a cad as you could land such a blow as this? I've half a mind to run you through, you brushy-tailed scoundrel!"

"Brushy-tailed?" The fair young man drew himself up. "_Brushy-tailed!_ Why, of all the vile—! I've never been so insulted in my life. I bite my thumb at you, my vermiculate friend!"

His 'friend' looked at him, appalled. "You _dare_ bite your thumb at me, you verbose, narcissistic ponce?"

"A ponce, I am not. Narcissistic? Mm…only on Sundays and every other Thursday. And as to the former…you think me verbose, do you? Well, then, I'll try to use smaller words so you'll be sure to understand them!"

"Fool! Such mediocrity! Let your sword do the talking."

"If I will, it will be loquacious to a fault!"

"You flimsy braggart…modesty never was your best side."

"At least I _have_ a best side. You always look as if you make it a habit to ride your broomstick into a hurricane every morning. I've seen swine look better than you, bespectacled toad!"

The other boy stumbled back, as though wounded, his hand on his chest and a look of shock on his face. Sure, he wasn't as aware of his good looks as the other guy, but he still liked to think he was charming…and it wasn't _his _fault his hair was so untamable…it was in his genes! But…but to call him a _toad? _

He regained his composure, lifting his finger at his foe, and said dramatically, "I'll get you for that! Your…your mother was a hamster! And your father smelt of…of…_elderberries!_"

By saying this, he immediately knew that he had gone too far. The color drained from his opponent's face and he fell against the tree, aghast, as though he were on the verge of fainting. Then, just as quickly as he had turned white as marble, his face reddened so that he now rather resembled a cherry.

His voice dripping with pent-up anger, the fair-haired one raised his sword high. "_This means war!" _

He charged, quite possibly forgetting that the two had been staging this said war of logomachic swordplay for over an hour already. The other boy brought up his sword just in time and their blades clanged.

"Is that the best you can do, sir? I've never met such a nansy-pansy in all my life!"

"A nansy-pansy, am I? Take _that, _you rogue!"—a jab to the forearm—"and _that!_" he thrust again, but the other boy dove out of the way, rolling behind his attacker and bringing his sword around to hack at his legs.

Grimacing, the fair-haired one felt his legs buckle beneath him for, instead of slashing through his skin, the sword merely had to touch an object for it to send out a mild but painful shock. Managing to keep a good hold on his sword, he stumbled out of reach, leveling his weapon at his opponent as soon as the other man sprang up from the ground and came at him again.

"You fight like our sister!"

"Oy! I've _fought_ our sister—that's a compliment!"

Dodging and leaping, thrusting and ducking, the two danced across the greensward in their never-ending Waltz of the Duel. Their strength renewed by their thirst for revenge, no object on earth could distract them from their righteous cause. The sun could beat down upon them, the forces of nature could compel against them, even the very roars of their empty stomachs could try to dissuade them…and still they fought on, undaunted.

"Any last words, you conniving little fox?"

"Why thank you! If _that_ was an insult, I did not take it as such. I do believe you are running out of barbs…"

"You dare to impugn my honor?"

"You have no honor! You're naught but a scruffy, pileous mutt, and I shall be glad once I am rid of you."

"Why, are you going somewhere?"

"No…but _you_ are! I will cut you to ribbons!"

"We are men of action, lies do not become us—ooph!"

"You think I am lying, then? In that, you are sadly mistaken. Now I will tell thee once, do not make me say it again: Surrender! And I shall spare your life."

"You mean you wish to surrender to me? Very well, I accept!" The darker one leapt forward and buried the point of his sword in the trunk where his opponent's head had been just moments before. Seizing his chance, the other boy kicked out hard, connecting with the bespectacled one's abdomen. When the boy doubled up, gasping for breath, as quick as a flash his foe stepped in front of the embedded sword and leveled his own at the boy on the grass, just about to land the last fatal blow when—

"HARRY! DRACO! Dinner's ready, come and eat it!"

Before he could stop to think, Draco glanced over in the direction of the Den, where Aletha, one of his Pack-mums, stood beside the door. But in those few brief seconds he looked away, Harry, lying on the grass, saw his chance. With one swift move, he brought his leg up and kicked the sword right out of Draco's looser grasp.

The sword took off and went high into the air, end over end. Surprised, Draco swiveled back around only to find himself flat on his back, as Harry had kicked his legs out from under him.

Harry leapt to his feet, his eyes trained to the sky above him, where the sword was coming back down again with alarming alacrity right above him. At the last second, his arm shot up and grasped the sword by the hilt, bringing it down sharply until the blade quivered an inch from Draco's chest.

Harry smirked. "You lose!"

* * *

Danger Granger-Lupin leaned forward in her seat and pressed herself against the neck and back of her horse. The horse's mane and her own long brown one streamed behind them as they galloped at full speed down the long green. 

It was soothing, this…it calmed her down in ways that nothing else could. Just moving fast with the wind, away from her fears, caught up in nothing but what was happening in the here and now. She felt as if she couldn't be harmed by anything as long as Desdemona's hoofs kept beating against the ground in sync with the drumming of her heart. It was the feeling she got when she felt safe, content, peaceful…

It was the feeling she got when she was with Remus.

_Remus…_She pursed her lips and her grip on Desdemona's mane tightened. _Why could he not have told me? Since when did we start keeping secrets from each other? And why, for all Salazar's silk stockings, did he think that keeping it away from me would keep me from worrying? I can sure as hell think of a better way to find out than having the local village rat-catcher shout it out over his rat spleen soup..._

Rolling her eyes, she shoved her anger into the back corner of her mind and tried to pay more attention to where she actually was. Realizing how far she'd let Desdemona get ahead of her thoughts, she pulled up until they slowed to a trot, and then a walk.

"Whoa, girl…easy now…don't want to be going beyond our borders now, do we?" she said quietly. Desdemona snorted in reply as she swung her leg over the side, dismounting without help of a stirrup or stable hand with her expertise. She was but a child when she had first undergone the learning and lessons that were given to all respectable maidens in the kingdom.

_And even the not-so-respectable ones. _She smirked as she thought of the cubs, infamous children the lot of them, raised by a werewolf, a murderer, and their wives…or at least by England's standards.

Danger took her horse's muzzle in her hand and stroked the soft velvet fur. The equestrian training they were able to give the cubs was all thanks to Lord Albus, really. In fact…quite a lot of things they had were thanks to him, she thought, as Desdemona nibbled on her hair.

The aging Duke of Dumbledoreshire had given them four adult horses for the Pack-parents and a small colt for the cubs as a gift three-and-a-half years ago, as courtesy for stopping Lord Voldemort from getting the Philosopher's Stone just in time.

_At least, that's what he said, but I know him better…he wants to do his share of raising Harry, too, since the Crown not letting him open up his school again means that we can't visit him as much as we'd like…_

All five horses were immediately fussed over and spoiled. They took residence in the old stables that came with the property, although it was in drastic need of fixing up. Along with Desdemona, there was a golden stallion they named Romulus (much to Remus' chagrin); a midnight black horse Sirius dubbed Cerberus; and his mate, a sweet mare Letha took a liking to in an instant. It took Sirius quite a while to figure out why she decided to call her Drazah, but when he figured it out, he agreed that it seemed to fit her.

And as for the little colt—who had a stunning white coat with a black mane and tail—none of the cubs fondled it as much as Harry did, so they gave him the honor of giving it a name.

"Prongs," he had said certainly, stroking his newfound horse. Both Remus and Sirius had grown a bit solemn after that, but Prongs it was.

_Of course, little did we know that Desdemona would be mothering twins soon after that…and then Cerberus and Drazah not long after that!_ She chuckled. _Twins for our twins, of course. And a fine little mare for Meghan..._

Thinking of the twins, unfortunately, brought her mind back to Remus. Her restless anger seemed to communicate itself to Desdemona, who stamped a hoof and nickered. _Why are we standing out here,_ the mare seemed to be asking, _when you could be stamping him into the ground back home? _

"Because I can't be sure I want to," Danger told her, "and unless I'm sure, I don't want to begin." She started to finger-comb Desdemona's fly-away mane…not very unlike her own. "It isn't as if he was hiding things from me to hurt me. He wanted to keep me safe." She sighed. "Granted, he should have known I've never cared for being kept safe in that way..."

Desdemona snorted. _Men,_ she seemed to say. _All alike._

"In some ways, yes," Danger said, smiling. "It's why we love them so..." She hissed as she found a particularly difficult knot. Lifting the bag up and over her head that she usually took with her while riding, she rummaged around until she found Desdemona's comb.

"There we go…" she pulled it out, tossing the bag behind her, and set about picking her way through the large knot. Weaving one hand through the coarse hair to clutch at the strands right above the rat's tangle, she and the fine-toothed comb picked away at it, bit by bit.

Lost in her work, Danger didn't notice the hawk circling high above her, its keen eyes spotting something small scuttling through the long grass….

* * *

Racing against an unknown enemy, a small, graying rat streaked through the undergrowth, dodging twigs and rocks but never losing his speed. He breasted a small hill and, when he saw what was only thirty feet ahead of him, his heart stopped in utter fright. 

A large brown beast was right in his path with a tall, looming human standing right beside it.

The rat's instincts were to stay frozen and not move, lest they see him, but Wormtail swallowed that part of him—horses couldn't hurt him, after all, and he had learned long ago how to avoid humans when they spotted him. His nose and whiskers twitched as he caught their faint scent, and a malicious satisfaction rose within him.

Suddenly, a hawk screamed above him and veered sharply…heading straight for him...

_Bad. Bad. Badbadbad. _Panic seized him and he ran—ran straight to the enormous beast and human—whose heads were brought up sharply as they watched the hawk speeding towards the earth.

Forty feet…thirty…twenty-five…fifteen…as fast as a king's arrow to the heart of a stag, this bird of prey was diving steeply, gaining on him with every second.

_Run. Runrunrunrunrunrun. Almost there, quick—faster! Runrunrun!_

The hawk was two feet from him now—his long, deadly talons reaching out, inches from his body—

Then, just as those talons were about the close over him, he spotted cover in the form of an open, earthen bag and he dove inside—and just in time, too. The hawk pulled up sharply with a screech of fury, knowing his prey was lost, and flapped his wings hard, struggling to get airborne once more.

Wormtail burrowed deeper inside the bag, hoping the owner hadn't seen him, while smelling a strong odor of maple and thyme.

He had only to sit now…sit and wait.

* * *

"_Igniferae animae lacerta!" _Danger swore as the hawk soared right at them. Desdemona whinnied in alarm and reared up on her hind legs, jerking loose from Danger's grip. Stumbling back from both the spooked horse and psychotic bird, she didn't even notice where the small rodent was that the hawk had been after. Nor did she honestly care, to be quite frank. 

As soon as the hawk had regained both its balance and composure, taking back off again to the nearest tree, Danger ran over to her mare and tried calming her down. "_Whoa_…it's all right now! Easy there, Dess…hush…it's gone now, see? You don't need to be frightened, everything's all right…damned stupid bird…" she added, casting a glare over to where it was perched unusually still on its branch, beady eyes still staring right at them.

"Odd, though…birds like that are just as scared of horses as horses are of them…so why would it chase its prey all the way over to us? Wouldn't it have pulled up as soon as it saw where the animal was headed?" she said, brow furrowed.

Her heart finally returning to the rate it was comfortable at, Danger shrugged it off and continued stroking and rubbing Desdemona until the horse stopped quivering. With both of their nerves and courage back, she picked up her bag again and slung it over her shoulder.

"Come on, love, let's go ride the boundaries a little, just to be sure we're safe. Then we're off home, for a good brushing for you, and some rest for me."

She swung back into the saddle and nudged Desdemona forward, trotting towards the boundaries of their land, towards the translucent wall of enchantments that protected the Pack from an all-too-often hostile world.

With the scare they just had, even though it was quite harmless, she felt the need to check their wards…just to be sure.

Idly, she drew her wand from her bag and flicked a seeing spell over herself. _These look in good repair. Strong, well maintained—oh, I spoke too soon. _A small breach appeared in front of her, where one of the wards had come unwoven. _Time to fix it._

Rapid, complex flicks of her wand manipulated the strands of magic just as her hands usually manipulated the threads on her loom. Within a few moments, the breach was healed.

_Healing..._Danger slipped her wand away and sighed. _I think it's time to try that somewhere else as well. Remus shouldn't have kept the news from me, but he knows that, and I'm sure he shan't do it again._ A small smile touched her lips. _Not if he knows what's good for him. _

She kicked Desdemona into a canter. The brown mare needed no guiding from her as to which way a nice rubbing down and a sweet bucket of oats was.

The sun shone down on them lazily on their journey back across the fields and pastures and back to the Marauders' Den. All around her the leaves were turning red and gold, fluttering down the ground, or alighting upon her mane of bushy curls. With her crown of leaves and red dress falling down around her horse where she sat astride, she might have been mistaken for a fairy queen.

They came in sight of the Den and Danger led Desdemona into the stables, where a small variety of other horses were kept. She dismounted and led her mare into her own stall, at once supplying the oats and water needed for a horse after a run.

Danger brushed Dess's gleaming auburn coat as the horse fed. She breathed in the fresh smell of the hay; the quiet sound of the other horses' nickering and occasional hoof-stamping; the way the sunlight danced in through the beams overhead, illuminating the ever-moving dust specks all around her…

_Well, Remus. Time to come to peace with you as well…_

Reaching out a gentle probe to the relaxed feeling in the back of her mind, she hummed a few notes of music, a song they loved to sing together, to his violin playing or Letha's floor harp. _Here I am,_ she was saying without words, _here I am, ready to talk, ready to listen..._

**Why, hello again, stranger. **Danger smiled as his familiar voice crept into her thoughts through the open door she had created.

**Oh, so is that all I am to you? **she teased.

**Quite the contrary. Am I forgiven now?**

**Yes. And I'm sorry I got carried away like that. And I've come to the conclusion that you should have told me when you found out, but that you're sorry you didn't, and that you will never do it again.**

He laughed wryly. **And that isn't what I've been trying to tell you all along?**

**Hey. Don't polish your armor just yet, Sir Knight. You are still on probation.**

**Probation? And what do you propose my sentence to be, milady?**

She smirked and thought of all the possible ways and methods she could use to torture him as she hung her bag up on its usual hook on the wall beside the harnesses. It rustled as it swung back and forth, but she paid it no mind.

**Hmm. Good question. All right, I hereby declare with all the power vested in me as the wife of this poor soul, to banish him into a state of reclusion until such time as I see fit to redeem him.**

**Ah, you drive a merciless sword into this humble shepherd's heart. Is there no other way he can dissuade you from this sentence?**

**Well now that you mention it…I think that this said lady would be most inclined if such a shepherd were to go about wooing the lady fair. Wouldn't you think so?**

**But of course. And if the shepherd were to tell his Lady Huntress that he sends his most sincere apologies for not telling her the truth before…I don't suppose that would help matters any?**

Danger smiled as she heard footsteps come up behind her and strong arms wrapped around her body.

_It already has…_

She turned around to face him and stroked his freshly-shaven face, looking into his eyes, swirling blue and brown like her own.

"Ohh, my knight in shining armor!" she sighed in a girlish voice. "You simply sweep me off my feet."

"Comparing me to a broom, are you? I'm flattered," he said, and bent down to engross himself in a not-so-humble kiss of apology. But, despite their light-heartedness, his face was rather somber when she could look him in the eyes again.

**Never leave me for real, **he whispered in her head. **I don't think I could handle it.**

**Neither could I. But we won't have to…we'll fight Malfoy if he comes and make it so he's not a threat to our cubs any more. As long as the Pack stays together, we can face anything, you know that.**

**And if we get torn apart somehow? You said so yourself this morning that 'things happen'. How can we be sure that things won't happen to us? **

**I can't be. But we won't let that happen, Remus, you know we won't. We are Alpha, and this is our Pack. The cubs mean everything to us…they truly are the heart of the lion, as a wise man once called it. **She smiled as she thought of the double meaning that went with that.

**Well, that makes sense, considering you occupy the head.**

**Got that right. Not only do I live in your head, but I _own_ it! **She wiggled her eyebrows, suggestively.

He snapped his fingers, **Shucks, I guess I can forget about becoming the next Grand Sorcerer, then, with you in charge of my brain…**

She laughed and shoved him. **Honestly, I'm not that bad. Bear in mind that you're speaking to one who can channel the Ravenclaws' power on a biannual basis. But please, Remus, let's be serious.**

He opened his mouth, but she beat him to it. **And don't you dare say it. We have enough trouble with Sirius making that joke every year without you doing it as well. Now, I know that we have our wards up and the Charm in place, and that should be enough to keep him out. But just in case he finds some way—just in case, mind you—we will be there to hunt him down. No one messes with the Pack and gets away with it…you, of all people, should know that. We will protect each other, or die trying.**

**Yes, we will…but it's the 'die' part that I'm afraid of, **he said, his blue-gray eyes swimming with her own brown.

She grinned before she could stop herself. **Well, if someone _should_ die, we could always roll them and see what comes up. **

Remus drew back and gave her a look that clearly said "You're either insane, dirty-minded, or both."

**I prefer both, thank you. **

He laughed and they strolled up the walk, hand in hand, both thoughts occupying the others' head, as was only natural for them. And as they passed the threshold into the Den, Danger glanced over at him, a gleam in her eye.

"After all," she said. "We are quite alike, you and I."

* * *

_Circe's swine, I don't like this._

A young maiden nearing fifteen years of age stood outside the statue of a gargoyle and muttered under her breath. Her jade eyes kept glancing up and down the corridor, which was empty, save the two dozen suits of armor which lined one side of the wall. The other side was covered with windows, showing the storm raging outside and the loud drumming of rain on the finely-cut glass.

Every so often lightning flashed, illuminating the darkened hall, lit only by the occasional sconce, and she flinched ever so slightly.

"I shouldn't be doing this, this isn't my job, it's his…he should never have left, something never should have happened to him…but it did, and now_ I_'_m _here and it's all his fault…" she grumbled savagely, glowering at the gargoyle.

"All his fault, eh? You don't really believe that. But now it's up to you to deliver that message and stop dilly-dallying," said a voice behind her, and she jumped.

"Grandsir's _socks_, Dad, you scared me!" she said, and scowled. "And what, you live in my head now as well? I already have two fathers running around, telling me what to do. I don't need three."

The figure in the painting spread his arms out and gave her a wry grin. "Not likely to be running anywhere, now, am I?"

"Oh, ha ha. But I'm right…this is Julian's job. He was the delivery boy around here. _Why_ did he have to leave?" she suddenly burst out.

"It wasn't his choice to. He was taken…you know that. But people are looking for him and he's going to be all right, Heshath…I know you care for him, but he's going to be all right."

"Yeah, because you apparently know everything, don't you?" she snapped.

"I do and I'm proud of it. Now quit worrying about your friend and deliver that message before it's too late, young lady," he said, admonishing her.

"_Fine_, old man." She stuck her tongue out at him before turning back around and facing the gargoyle. "_Skiddlywumpus!"_

As if by magic—_Nah, you think?—_the gargoyle leapt aside to reveal a winding staircase. She stepped onto it and let it carry her up until she reached a large oak door with a doorknocker hung in the shape of the Hogwarts crest: a snake, a badger, an eagle, and a lion gathered around a big, curly 'H'.

She hesitated and took a deep breath, as though steeling herself; then she shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, and lifted her chin up into the air. Taking a hold of the brass ring, she tapped it three times and the sound resounded around her. At once, the eyes of all four creatures blazed four different colors, and the door swung open.

Dame Minerva hastily set down the last of her ginger snaps in her seat near the fire, and Lord Albus, the Duke of Hogwarts Castle and its environs, looked up from where he was standing beside his window balcony.

"Ah, Miss Amanda Smythe! And to what do I owe this pleasure?" Lord Albus said, smiling.

"Erm…" she walked over to him and held up a sealed envelope with the Crown's crest pressed into the wax. "Rider's just come in from London, sir…he said he came as fast as he could to deliver this. Said it was urgent."

The aged Duke of Dumbledoreshire took the parchment from Amanda's hand and tore it open. His blazingly blue eyes sped across the page, taking in the words with one sweep. When he had finished, he crumpled it in his hand.

"Thank you, my dear child," he said brusquely. "Now if you would, please go downstairs and alert the rider that his message has been delivered safely. Tell him that his services are not needed for my journey back with him, so his horse can be delivered to the stables, and he can rest here for the night."

"Yes, sir," she said, and stood back as the Lord Albus swept across the room to put on his outer cloak.

"But, Albus, what is it? They haven't caught the man, have they?" Dame Minerva asked, daring to hope.

"No, I'm afraid not. This is of a far graver concern. I shall let you know as soon as I am able. Lord Severus has not yet finished his mission in the southern parts so you are in charge of the castle affairs until I return…I do not know how long I will be away. Fawkes! To me! I know you are weary, my old friend, but we must make haste," the Duke said aloud.

The phoenix at once awoke from his slumber and flew to his master's shoulder. With a trilling note and a burst of flames, they vanished from the room, leaving behind a singular golden feather, which fluttered about softly before Amanda reached out her hand and caught it.

"Will he be all right?" she asked the older woman tentatively.

Dame Minerva sniffled once more before standing up brusquely. "Of course he will be, what sort of silly question is that? Now come along, Miss Smythe, you heard him. We need to go down and tell the poor rider that he can rest now…no use wasting time up here…"

She picked up her cloak and gloves and marched over to spiral staircase, when she realized that Amanda wasn't behind her. "Miss Smythe! Are you coming? I've got better things to do than to stand around and wait for you."

"Oh…sorry, yes…I'm coming," Amanda said, twirling the golden feather in her hand. An idea was beginning to hatch in her head…but now was not the time to follow up on it. She turned around and exited the Duke's grand office, following the ever so amiable Dame Minerva.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **Ta-dum! And there you have it...the unseen plot is kicking into gear and characters are getting further on in their progress. It does beg to question what, exactly, Dumbledore got called away for; and what this newcomer Amanda has up her sleeve; and what Wormtail is planning on doing now that he's gained entrance into the Den..._

_Or has he?_

_And just to those of you who aren't aware: Amanda Smythe is not my character either...she is the daughter of our very dear Anne and all graces go to her..._

Literally.

_So, go ahead and review to your heart's content! Tell me which parts you liked best and your favorite lines! Squeal at me, if you must. Next chapter will be called 'The Dragon's Curse' and I will be getting to it as soon as I can!_

_Oh...and before I forget...within this chapter I have hidden two Easter Eggs. It's a sort of...pun with words. Or with letters, I should say. And it's not what you at first may think._ _Whoever discovers it first, I will give them a special prize. But if no one finds it out, never fear. I'll spell it out for you before the next chapter is posted._

_Cheers!_

_Hestia Hesperus_


	4. Ch 3 The Dragon's Curse

**_

* * *

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A PACK APART

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* * *

_

**Chapter Three: The Dragon's Curse**

"Look out, hairy boy, coming through!"

"Oy!"

"What? You are, it's not like it's anything new…"

Harry took a swipe at Draco and missed.

"Behave, you two, while you're in the kitchen," Letha said. She set her pot of stew on the table as the cubs came in and sat down. "After all," she added as an afterthought, "I'm not too sure Hairy Stew would taste very good."

Harry made a face at Letha behind her back.

"Watch out, you, I can see that."

Harry watched Draco's hands move under the table. _See? Told you she had eyes at the back of her head…_

"Saw that, too. Remember, I'm your worst nightmare." She leaned in close and whispered to them. _"I know everything!"_

"And she does, too," said Sirius' voice from the open kitchen door. He ducked in order to provide himself and Meghan, who was riding on his shoulders, entrance.

"Aren't you a little too old to be riding on his shoulders, Pearl?" Letha asked, tickling her daughter's foot.

Meghan bounced. "He magicked me into being as light as a feather! So that means that I can stay up here as long as I want and it won't hurt him."

"Says who?" said Sirius, affronted. He reached up and grabbed her, setting her on the floor again and taking the spell off. She pouted.

"Now where can Hermione be?" Letha asked, peering out the window. "Have any of you seen her since she went outside? Harry?"

Harry smirked. "If you know everything, then why are you asking?"

Letha pulled up the chair beside him and reached out to whack him on the back of his head.

"You see what I have to put up with?" Sirius told Draco conversationally. "The woman doesn't listen to reason."

"And _you_ don't listen to common sense! Sirius, why, in Merlin's name, is Meghan all wet?" she said, eyeing her daughter.

"It was his fault! Not mine!" said Meghan quickly. "He scared me and I fell in."

"Traitor," Sirius muttered.

Harry laughed and chose a partially burnt roll from the basket.

_Whatever you can say about the Den, dull isn't one of them. Whether we like it or not, there was always something going on…_

_And that 'something' has the nasty habit of coming in the form of something we don't want._

He inwardly grimaced as he thought about all the scrapes they'd had in the past. First they were captured by Lord Lucius, then it was the ordeal with the Longbottoms, and the whole thing with the Philosopher's Stone and Voldemort, and then the bloody diary and Sangre, and _then,_ what with Malfoy escaping…

_All in all, if people weren't careful, they might just think we're the bloody plague…well, either that, or invincible…_

But of course Harry knew that wasn't true. He could still remember the fear and the pain of each of those moments almost as clearly as if it all happened yesterday. Most of the time, if not all, they had gotten away with mere luck. When Harry was after Lord Voldemort and the Stone…or even when he and Draco had gone down into the Chamber…

He shuddered. _If the fates hadn't been with us any of those times, I don't know what would have happened. We'd all probably be dead now…that, or worse…_

He knew all too well what would have happened if Lord Lucius had succeeded in his plans and hadn't been thwarted. Harry Potter certainly would have been no more; all Malfoy wanted was to raise Harry and Draco in the ways of the Dark. And if that had happened, besides the personal nastiness of it, Harry wouldn't have been there to stop Sir Quirrell from drinking the elixir, and Lord Voldemort would have a free rein.

_So…no, we're not invincible, and it would be foolish to think we were. The Pack is just…heh, magically enhanced, shall we say._ Harry smirked as Moony and Danger walked in.

"What is this I smell?" Danger said, feigning surprise. "My dear cooking-handicapped sister has accomplished a feasible scent in the kitchen? The incredibility of this statement alarms me!"

Letha scowled "It will please you to learn that I burnt the rolls. Laugh it up, why don't you…"

Danger hid a smile and sat demurely in her seat.

"Where's Hermione?" Moony asked.

"Here. Crookshanks held me up," Hermione said as she came in, her ginger cat trailing sulkily behind her.

"Why didn't you just leave him out there? That way, if Wormtail tries sneaking in, all that'll be left of him will be his ugly, little tail sticking out of Crookshanks' mouth," said Draco.

Meghan shuddered.

"Wormtail's not going to be coming in," said Hermione automatically. "We're too well-protected. He'd have to get through Moony's wards first and the blood wards, and that's if he even knew where to find us. Which he doesn't. Pass the salt, please."

"Well, even if he _were_ able to get past all that, it doesn't matter…your cat would be too chicken anyway…" Draco grumbled.

"Oh, and your pet is so much better," she retorted. "Who was it who charmed Morpheus into imitating a chicken every time Padfoot walked by, again?"

"Oi!" Sirius said, and Harry and Meghan snickered as he rounded on Draco. "You did _what,_ exactly?"

Moony took the seat on Harry's other side and helped himself to the stew as Draco tried to cover up, much to Danger and Letha's amusement.

"I was watching your swordfight today," he said in an undertone. "Those were some good moves—I've never seen you do that before."

Harry flashed a grin. "Thankssssss."

"But you need to be careful about becoming too showy. Remember, this isn't a competition for whoever has the best moves. In most fights, the first time you show your back to an enemy will be your last. It's _vitally_ important to keep your enemy in front of you at all times," Moony said, dropping into his lecturing mode.

Harry tried to keep his face neutral as he buttered his blackened roll. "Well, I won, didn't I?"

"Whether you win or not isn't the point. This isn't a game, Harry; we have to treat every practice as a life-or-death situation. Most Death Eaters aren't going to be standing back and admiring your footwork while you run them through with your sword," Moony said.

"'Never let your enemy surprise you. You may let them live up to your expectations, or you can set them too high for them to live up to. But _never_ let your enemy go any higher, or you will know that by underestimating them, you are as good as dead.'" Harry said softly, quoting the words Moony and Padfoot had taught them again and again over the years.

Moony smiled. "That's right. But you have improved. _Both_ of you have improved," he corrected as Draco turned to look at them, half-following the conversation now that Padfoot was busy gulping his stew down.

"What about us?" Hermione said, gesturing to her and Meghan.

"Now why would I forget you? You've become better than any of us with wielding a staff, Neenie, and you, Pearl, have picked up on your dagger much faster than I anticipated!" said Moony, and he pulled them into a hug.

Harry and Draco traded a look over Moony and the girls' heads.

_I just hope that we've improved enough so that if something happens, we'll be ready enough to fight,_ Draco signed to him.

Harry nodded in return. _And so we don't have to rely on luck this time…_

* * *

Remus Lupin, appraised werewolf and alpha of the small band of fugitives, looked around at his Pack with a smile. 

_It can't get any better than this,_ he thought, as they chattered around the elongated table set for eight. They had a home, they had food and water and a comfortable place to sleep at night. But most of all, they had each other.

_And we will always have each other. No matter what._

The familiar thoughts of the threat that loomed over them sifted into his mind, bringing with it a pale, upright man with a sneer on his face, dressed in fashionable clothes. _For I have no doubt that he was rid of his prison garb as soon as he entered on dry land and found one of his so-called __**friends**_ to aid him.

**Don't let him get to you, Remus. If you keep letting him enter your mind and destroying your happiness, then you will have let him succeed without ever even facing him.**

He looked over at her, where her brown eyes were swimming in blue. **I'm not letting him get to me. I'm just letting in the possibility that this happiness we've had for over two years now might just vanish before our eyes.**

**Remus, how long has it been since my last prophecy?**

He sighed. **Eighteen months, but that doesn't mean they're going to give us plenty of time to prepare ourselves! We only had a few minutes warning with the Longbottoms, didn't we? Who's to say that won't happen again?**

**Well, who's to say the Guardians are going to let us down?** she shot back. **They never have before, and you know it. I trust them and their decisions.**

**Would they have? They've tested us before, remember? You, in particular.** He thought back on the time they were in the Longbottoms' captivity, waiting to be taken to Azkaban Isle. That was when Danger had collapsed shortly after turning the cubs into animals and setting them free before the guards came. If Remus hadn't come to her when he did…

Danger reached a hand over and put it on his. **But you didn't lose me back then, and you certainly aren't going to now. I'll be with you every step of the way, where ever it is we're going. That is…_if_ we are even going anywhere. It's just a superstition, just like black cats on All Hallows' Eve…**

He shook his head and chuckled, trying to rid the last of his unpleasant thoughts from his mind. The clatter of plates and utensils brought him back to the present and he could hear Meghan and Neenie squabbling over Archimedes, his pet owl.

They were taking turns making him do tricks for his treats—the Owl Pasties that Aletha had made for Archimedes, Morpheus, and Hedwig.

Making Archie, as the cubs were fond of calling him, do tricks was a favorite past time of theirs. Draco had taught him a few months ago how to open his cage without magical wards, and Harry had taught him how _with_ the magical wards in place. Granted, he could only do a simple unlocking spell, but that was a hell of a lot more than any normal owl could do.

Just then there was a clatter of hooves outside and a "Whoa, there, boys! Easy does it!"

"Aunt Andy!" Meghan squealed and ran out the door.

"Well, look who's come to visit…" Sirius said as Andromeda Tonks came through the doorway a minute later with Meghan, their arms full of bags. "And if she hasn't brought us a surprise!"

He took the bags from her as she embraced Letha and Danger with their usual exclamations of how long it had been.

**This _is_ a surprise. Did you know she was coming?** he asked Danger as soon as Andy had let go.

**No, I didn't…which is odd, because she usually owls and tells us when she's in Devonshire in the first place. We haven't even seen her since last May. You don't think anything is the matter, do you?**

**I don't know yet. But I think I am right in guessing that a long talk is due…**

Andy was pulling out wrapped boxes from her bags and giving them to the cubs, apparently enjoying the idea of spoiling them. "And, last but not least, here's your birthday gift, Draco. Careful there, it's pretty heavy."

Sirius and Danger laughed as the cubs set about opening their belated birthday gifts that Andy had missed while being gone.

"Hey, mind you don't get your new things in the food!" Letha called out and started putting the empty dishes in the sink.

Hermione let out a small "oh!" when she opened her box and pulled out a thick leather book. Draco was just about to roll his eyes when he saw what kind of book it was exactly.

"'_Astronomy: A Guide to the Law of the Stars_,"' he read. "Oh, neat."

Hermione beamed. "Thanks, Aunt Andy!" And no sooner had she said that then she sat back on her heels, opened her new book to the first page, and began to read.

Harry was busy tinkering with his own gift, and Remus leaned forward to see what it was. It was curiously shaped—a glass triangular head with a wooden trimming and one complicated dial in the middle that turned out to be a lot of different knobs that could twist at separate speeds.

"Ahhh…" said Remus. "May I see it?"

Harry handed it to him, and Remus peered closer at its face. The one dial in the middle had twelve different knobs with twelve different numbers set inside each knob. They weren't numbered from one to twelve, however. The smallest one in the middle started with the lowest numbers, skipping from one to three to five, and so on. The second dial dealt with a different set of numbers slightly higher than the first, with the third higher than the second. By the time it got to the twelfth and largest wheel, it was at three digits.

And around this wheel of wheels there was a single arrow pointing to one number from each of the twelve knobs, displaying a different set of numbers entirely.

"What is it? Do you know?" Harry asked, looking at it in Remus' hand.

"_This_…" Remus said, amazement starting to creep into his voice, "is what they call a dodecatant. Ancient wizards would use it for telling the exact position of a star from the earth, while others would even use it for telling their bearing when they were lost at sea. Unlike most magical objects, this doesn't need a spell or magical herb or potion to help make it work. The only magic it gives off is a single magnetic pull from the sun, or even the moon. That's what makes it so special. And they're also very hard to come by, these days…"

This last was directed towards Andy, who just smiled. "I think you know who told me to give this to you, Harry. Well, not told so much as…hinted at."

She winked and Harry grinned. She had just come from Hogwarts Castle in Dumbledoreshire. There was only one guess who that person could have been…

Meghan, meanwhile, had squealed when she opened her own long, flat box and pulled out a dress—or at least, that's what Remus thought it was. It was made out of a shimmery violet fabric that glowed silver when held up to the light.

Letha drew a sharp intake of breath when she realized what it was. "That isn't—"

"Demiguise fur," Andy finished for her. "Yes, it is. But only a part of it; it was sewn into the fabric by the Russian gypsies. It's often what they use when they're dancing. It differs from a cloak of invisibility with the way the two substances are intertwined. The dancers would wear these dresses and, stepping in and out of the firelight, they would appear to shimmer as they danced, creating this mystic illusion to their dances. Believe me, I've seen them at it and it is truly remarkable."

"But…but this must have cost a fortune!" Letha said, fingering the soft fabric. "Are you sure you could afford it?"

"Don't worry, I got this off a friend who said he 'owed' me for saving his son's arm from amputation. He thrust the fabric into my hands and wouldn't take no for an answer. I figured, since there wasn't enough to make a full dress or cloak, a small one would do just fine," said Andy. "Besides…I knew Meghan would look more than gorgeous in it."

Meghan held the dress up to her and twirled around while the others admired. Aletha bit her lip, but didn't say anything more. She had to admit…that color _was_ enchanting on her daughter. It had barely enough cloth dropping off at the shoulder to ensure that the long-sleeved decency of their times was covered, but it was so floaty that one could tell how bare her arms were underneath.

"Can I try it on, Mama Letha? Please?" the girl pleaded, full of excitement at owning something so fine as this. And especially made for dancing, too!

"Oh…yes, go ahead. In fact, why don't all four of you go and find something to do. We'll let you off on dishes duty while we need to talk."

Meghan gave a small yip, but the other three groaned.

"Why can't we stay too? We have just as right as anyone else to hear what's been happening at Court," Harry said.

"If not more," Draco added.

"You will hear everything we think you need to know soon enough," Remus said. "But for now, we need to have our own discussion."

"Oh, Hermione? Could you and Meghan take my horses out to the barn and give them some fresh oats? There's no need to unbridle them, I can only stay for a bit," Andy called out as they left.

"Sure."

"Thank you, dear."

The cubs began to trail outside with Draco being the last to leave. He lingered at the doorpost with his package and Remus realized he hadn't even opened it yet.

"Is…this isn't about…my father, is it?" Draco said hesitantly.

Remus put his hand on his shoulder. "I will tell you. But now isn't the time."

Draco nodded and left to rejoin the others. Remus watched them

"Oh, I almost forgot…" Andromeda reached into her last bag and brought out a bottle of red liquid. "I got something for you guys as well. This is my gift to you."

Sirius perked up when he saw it. "Is that mead I smell? And not just any mead—honey…a tint of rose hips…"

He read the label on the bottle and grinned. "Aha! I was right. The old Ashdown Rhodomel. You, my dear, are a wonder."

Letha folded her arms as he kissed his older cousin on the cheek. "Should I be worried, or is my husband not much to look at, Andy?"

Andy laughed. "Oh he's got his charms, all right…I can see why you were taken in."

"Well, what with that and my remarkable wit and stunning looks, I admit that I am pretty catchy," Sirius said with a boastful smile as he popped the lid off the bottle and started pouring glasses for them.

Danger shoved Sirius as she moved around him to sit at the table again. It was all cleared off of all of their dinner food and the extra chairs were pushed aside for more room as they all sat down.

* * *

"So, Draco, would did you get?" 

"Does it look like I've opened it yet?"

"Would I ask if I could tell whether you've opened it or not?"

"There aren't any creases in it, it's still in one piece, and I'm not holding any shiny new toy, now am I?"

"Why are you such a grouch? You're not mad that I beat you at practice today, are you?"

"You call that 'beating'?"

"Well, what would you call it?"

"Does 'interrupted distraction' ring a bell?"

"Could you two just quit it already? That's getting annoying," Hermione said from the nearest stall. She and Meghan had just gotten Aunt Andromeda's two enormous Clydesdales unhitched from the wagon and into the barn, no thanks to the boys. Draco and Harry were perched up in the loft, their feet swinging above the girls and the horses' heads.

"Well, it's not like you need our help anyway," Harry said when she mentioned this. "You two are good enough with horses, and Comet and Chunky are about as mean as butterflies. You didn't need our help."

"Besides," Draco added, "she asked _you_ to do it, didn't she?"

"That's not the point! It's only common courtesy, you know. These things are five times my size."

The horse she was feeding gave a loud nicker and a snort.

"See? He likes you," Harry said. Hermione just rolled her eyes and careful edged around them out of the stall.

Draco lay back against the bale of hay he was using to prop himself up. The stables weren't grand or spacious, but they were large enough to house the eight horses they owned, plus some.

At the moment it was the hottest part of the day and, although it was October when the days were beginning to get cooler, all of the horses were in their own stalls instead of out in the fields. What with the run the Pack took them all for earlier in the morning, Danger didn't want them to overheat. Thus could he hear below them many neighs and grunts.

He remembered when Desdemona first had the twins. Aunt Andromeda was there to help her deliver and, although Draco wasn't allowed to be there, he heard what happened not soon after. A small colt came out first, his coat gray with a white muzzle and hooves. He had been very weak and they had to tend to him and warm him up quickly, or else he wouldn't make it.

And he almost didn't.

After the second twin was delivered, however—she was a healthy filly the color of vanilla cream—he began to pull through and become stronger. They began to call him the little miracle boy and Draco named him Ray because, just as his coat was the color of a cloudy sky, he had almost died, but then he pulled through like a ray of light.

He gave a derisive snort and grinned. _Would you like some crackers to go with that cheese? I_ was _eleven when it happened, so perhaps that can account for the bad analogy._

Below the loft, he could hear Meghan cooing to her own horse.

He grinned, remembering how many weeks it had been after Drazah's and Cerberus' foal had been born before she was named. Meghan kept picking out names she liked then changing her mind about it. It wasn't until the little filly had been three and a half weeks old that Meghan came grinning into the kitchen, announcing that she had been a final decision.

Meghan cleared her throat. "I'm going to name her…Seadance Ambergris Black!"

"But…that's not even a real name!" Neenie had said, rolling her eyes.

"Is too!" Meghan retorted. "It is if I say it is."

Hermione opened her mouth, no doubt to argue the point even further, but Harry looked at her. "Neenie, drop it."

"She spoils you, you know that?" Draco could hear Hermione ask as she waited outside the stall door for Meghan to come out. Meghan had chosen one of the empty stalls on the other side of the barn so that the boys couldn't see from their perch. She was busy stripping out of her clothes to try on her new dress.

"Of course I do!" Meghan chirped.

"And you don't even mind?"

"Why would I? I like being spoiled."

"Of course, you do," Hermione muttered and scowled at the closed door.

Draco rolled his eyes. _Sheesh. She gets onto us for arguing, and then turns around and squabbles with someone herself. Typical Hermione behavior._

He heard a grunt and a groan and wondered when they got pigs, when he heard Hermione sigh and call through the wooden door, "Pearl…do you need help? You sound like you're having a bit of trouble."

"Am not!"

"You are too."

"Am not!"

"Are too."

"Am _not!"_

"Fine! Be that way, why don't you," Hermione snapped.

"Thank you, I shall."

There was a "Humph!" and Draco could hear Hermione climbing up the ladder to join them.

"Speaking of grouchy…" Harry said in an undertone to Draco. "What d'you reckon is wrong with Neenie? She's been like this all week."

Draco shrugged, but he had a pretty good idea.

Draco blushed slightly just as Hermione came through the hatch and spotted them beside the overhanging.

"Well?" she said, walking over to them and sitting down on a bale of hay. "We all know what we got, Draco, but what about you? You haven't even opened it yet."

"Thank you, I hadn't noticed," he remarked acidly.

"Just asking…"

Draco glanced down at his unopened gift. Why _didn't_ he open it? Shouldn't he have torn it open first chance he got, like he normally did? What was so different about this present that made him have second thoughts? Misgivings, if you will.

Perhaps…perhaps it was because he was afraid of what was inside it.

But his hands didn't move to unwrap the brown paper and open the box, no matter how much he told them to.

"He's afraid its going to end up being a mirror. Doesn't want to see his big ugly face in it or he'll scream his head off," said Harry.

Hermione rolled her eyes as Draco forsook his present and landed on top of Harry.

"Fine," she said as they rustled around the hay-strewn floor. "I suppose I'll have to open it myself." She reached for his present and held it in her hands. Aunt Andy had been right, she thought—it _was_ heavy.

"I'm going to rip off the paper!" she warned them, but they ignored her. With a grin, she took off a corner and peeled the paper off, making it tear loudly.

"OY!"

Draco scrambled towards her, his hair completely messed up, looking every bit as messy as Harry looked. "That's mine!"

"I warned you."

"Yeah, well, I didn't think you were going to actually _do_ it."

"Serves you right for thinking," she shot back. "Besides, it's about time you open it up. I don't know why you waited so long in the first place—"

"Wait for me!" said Meghan below them. "_Neenie!"_

"Why are you yelling at me for? I'm not even opening it!"

"No, not that. I mean…I need some help!"

Hermione grumbled as she got up. "Fine, fine, now you tell me…"

She disappeared below the hatch, and the boys graciously resumed their fighting stances.

* * *

Meghan adjusted the dress sleeves, her small fingers feeling the smooth, cool fabric. She loved the way it felt on her…like water, almost, but lighter. She gave a soft twirl and it moved against her body with a freedom that she envied. 

She remembered standing in the water just hours before, with the waves lapping up against her shift and feet. It was like that with this dress on, but then…

She spread out her arms and swayed, moving her feet around the empty stall, not caring if she stepped on a sliver.

There was a knock and the stall door opened.

"You called?" Hermione said, but then stopped when she saw Meghan.

Meghan smiled. "Do you like it? Isn't it _beautiful!"_

Hermione stared at her for a minute, her expression soft. "It looked very nice when you held it up…" she said. "But that's nothing compared to what it looks like on you now."

A warm feeling crept over Meghan from the words and Neenie's glowing smile.

Hermione walked over to her and fingered the ivory buttons in the back. "Is this what you need? For me to button you up?"

Meghan nodded. "I can't reach very well back there."

She kept very still as Hermione set about buttoning every single one of the small, fragile things, using fingers accustomed to holding the small tip of a quill.

"Did you ever get anything like this when you were my age?" said Meghan.

Hermione chuckled. "No. I didn't really care much for what I wore when I was your age. But if I knew there such dresses as these around, that might have altered my opinion…"

"There's probably some your size! Maybe we can ask Aunt Andy if she knows any more gypsies for you to—"

"No…it's all right, Pearl. I'm just fine with what I have. If I couldn't have a dress made out of demiguise fur, I'm certainly glad that you're able to. That's enough for me." said Hermione. She finished buttoning up the last one then sighed. "There. Want to go show the boys now?"

Meghan nodded happily and they left the stall, hand in hand.

* * *

"Finally," Draco said when Hermione's head came through the hatch. "You said to wait for you, so we waited. Did you have to take so long?" 

"Of course we did. We're girls, it's in our nature," Hermione said as she climbed up the rest of the way. Behind her there was a rush and a scramble, then Meghan's black head peeped out over the flooring, and Hermione helped her through all the way.

"Ta-dum!" Meghan said, standing up and twirling her dress.

Harry, Hermione and Draco applauded her and admired the way the sunlight shone through the rafters, capturing her. Draco didn't know whether it was the trick of the sun or the trick of the dress, but for a moment Meghan seemed to blink out, and then blink back in again.

_No,_ he reminded himself. _Not technically. Aunt Andy said the dress is only partially sewn in with that stuff. I suppose if you combine it with regular fabric, it only creates half the illusion. So they wouldn't have the same features…just different takes on the same features, if that makes any sense._

Draco shook his head to clear his thoughts. "All right, now that we are all here…" he said. With a flourish, he carefully removed the paper off the box, piece by piece.

"Oh, you're slow," Meghan said, joining them.

"No, I am Draco. You would think, after living with me for ten years, you would remember my name by now."

She stuck her tongue out at him.

He fumbled with the fastenings and opened the box. A messy black head, a braided black head, a curly brown head and a tussled fair head leaned in closer to peer at what was there.

Inside lay a single sleek, obsidian orb.

"What in Merlin's name is _that?"_

Draco reached in and pulled it out, holding it in both hands. It was around the size of one of the melons Danger got from the market. Instead of being pure black, though, like he thought at first, it was slightly translucent. In the very center shone a faint reddish glow.

"Hey, look at all these symbols all around it," Harry said, peering closer. "I don't know what they are, though…can't make them out.."

"Let me see it?" Hermione asked, and Draco reluctantly handed it to her. "They look like they're runes, but they're really complex. We still have those textbooks that show all of the runes and their meanings, don't we, Draco?"

He shrugged.

Hermione looked back at the orb and ran her finger along the mass of interjoined and connected lines engraved on it. She stopped beside one and studied it, a furrow in her brow.

"What?" he asked.

"Erm…nothing. I just thought I knew what this one means, but I must be wrong," she said.

Harry clutched his chest. "Oh my! Neenie is actually admitting she's _wrong?_ Is there a tremor in the earth, or am I hallucinating?"

"Oh, ha ha," she said sarcastically. She passed the globe to Meghan, who looked at it dubiously.

"It's pretty…but what does it _do?"_ Meghan said.

"I don't know. Probably helps memorization with Ancient Runes. Aunt Andy said Neenie's, Harry's, and my gifts were educational, after all," said Draco.

"I bet that _I_ know what this is," Harry said, tossing it into the air and catching it after Meghan gave it to him. "We can use it to make a game on our broomsticks, instead of having to race each other and play the normal child games all the time. I toss it to Draco, he throws it over to Meghan, she loops the tree and throws it back to me, and then I take it and throw it in the basket hanging on a tree, and it lands in it and I SCORE!"

They laughed as Harry did the hand movements and then cupped his hands over his mouth and cheered. "And the crowd goes wild…"

"Give me that," Draco said, and grabbed the globe away before Harry could imitate smashing it on the ground.

"Well," Harry shrugged. "It was an idea. And a good one, I might add."

Draco furrowed his brow, staring at the red center of the orb. For a second, he could almost see his father's eyes staring back up at him…gray and cold…

"I think I know why Andy came," he said quietly.

Hermione turned to him and Meghan cocked her head.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"She came…not because she just wanted to pay a visit, and not because she wanted to give us our belated birthday presents. Those were just excuses. She came because she knows something…about my father…"

"Draco…" Harry started, then trailed off.

"No, Harry. He's right," Hermione said. "Draco, everyone, I—I have something to tell you…"

She took a deep breath and told them all about overhearing Remus and Danger's conversation about Malfoy.

"You mean he's _what?_"

"But how can he be so close? He's not even supposed to know where we are."

"Well, apparently, he does," Draco broke in. He stared into the heart of the globe at the red center, his face pale and his fingers running over the lines.

So…he had been right. It had to deal with his father after all. Well, it figured. It only made sense, his father wasn't stupid…Draco knew that he would find him eventually. He was just lucky he was able to spend a few more months with the Pack before his father took him…

"I won't let him find you! I won't, I won't!" Meghan said and latched herself onto his arm. A flash of annoyance crept over Draco before he could stop it.

Harry reached over and tugged one of her braids. "None of us will, Pearl. We're Pack…we defend our own."

Hermione looked worried—she was biting her lip, a sure sign of nervousness. At Harry's words, she took a deep breath and nodded.

"It will be all right. Everything will be just fine," she said, reassuring herself more than anything. "I'm sure he only knows the general area we are in. He can't find us if we're under the Fidelius. We have strong wards, plus the blood wards…he won't be able to get to any of us, I'm _sure_ of it."

"But what if he does? What if they fall and he gets through? What if something bad happens? What would we do?" Meghan asked in a small voice.

"_If_ something were to happen, Pearl," Harry said, "and Malfoy _was_ able to get through the outside wards…we would still have the blood wards around the house, which Malfoy can't pass, and the Last Protection. The house will seal itself against any sort of evil, and bar all the entrances and exits through magic. That would mean that no matter what he does, no matter how many Dark spells he throws at the doors or the windows, they won't open for him because of his intentions. And if there was evil inside of the Den when the spell is activated, there will be no way for him to get out. He would be stuck in the Den with the Pack-parents training their wands on him and no way for him to escape."

"But what if he's inside and he tries to hurt us?" she asked with a faint trace of a sniffle. "I don't want to fight! I don't want to get hurt, I don't want anybody else to get hurt…"

Harry hugged her. "We won't let him hurt you. We know how to fight—Moony and Danger, and Padfoot and Letha taught us well. Besides, we have our daggers with us at all times, and you remember what Moony said at dinner. And we have our pendants so that we'll know if anything happens to any of us."

"But—" she said.

"But, nothing, Meghan. Besides…we have the Sanctum. If we get the warning, we'll be in there quick as a flash and come up through one of the tunnels that go under the house up through here—" He gestured below them to the hay-strewn floor. "—or down by the beach, or even that one that comes out of the forest. We'll be safe…you don't need to worry."

Harry hugged her and Hermione came over to join them, putting her hand in Draco's and squeezing it reassuringly. He gave her a forced smile of thanks.

"All right…" Meghan said with a smile, "I believe you."

* * *

Wormtail could feel his tiny rat heart go nearly three hundred beats per minute, his mind revolving in circles over what he had just heard… 

_The plan was to get through the outer wards around the Marauders' Den. I've done that. Wait around until dark falls to find a way inside of their house, then find the ward center and drop the wards for the others to get in._

But, if the Potter boy was speaking the truth, they also had set up a more advanced magic for the inner wards around the house, which meant that if he _had_ crossed the threshold when it was time, he would have certainly died from the ward shock.

_But…but he said something about a tunnel that runs underneath the house—no, wait. Several of them. One comes up in the forest, the other beside the beach somewhere, and the last—_

He looked at floor of the stables, covered with dirt and straw and exuding the musty smell of horse manure.

_—comes up right around here._

It was perfect. Even if he was spotted once he was inside, this—Last Protection, was it—only extended around the outside of the house. If this…this _Sanctum_ was supposed to be a safe room with a tunnel for them to escape out of, then that meant the wards had to go around them so the occupants had a way to escape.

Excitement overcame his nervousness as he mapped out what he would do in his head.

_But careful, careful…can't get caught. __**He**_ will be waiting just outside the wards, waiting for me to pull it off, waiting to send his filthy men in to capture them.

_And if you fail?_ a small voice said.

_If I fail, I can escape through the tunnel to the beach. He won't find me there…won't know I'm there at all._

_But what if he tells Master? Master won't be so keen on sparing your life this time, you worm-ridden filth,_ it said disgustingly.

_Then I won't fail,_ he thought, watching one of the four children up in the loft twirl the black orb in his hands idly. Wormtail shrunk down deeper inside of the woman's bag, knocking over a small bottle of resin in the process.

_I won't fail,_ he thought again, reassuring himself, the words seeping into his every thought. _I won't fail._

* * *

Hermione began to talk about the book she got, but Draco wasn't listening anymore. 

He rolled the black orb in his hands, feeling the cold glass rub smoothly against his skin—the engraved maze going around and around, and in the very center…

_I wonder what this red stuff is. It looks like it could be the heart of it._

He stared at it and it began to take forms. A bleeding heart…red snake-like eyes…a wand, a dagger, a sword stained with blood…but above everything else, he saw his father's face taking form, and an anger filled him like he had never before known.

The air in the barn was too close…he suddenly hated being in the company of Harry, Hermione and Meghan. They were a nuisance, he wanted them to go away…

_No, I don't,_ he tried to protest. _Why would I want that? I love them…they're my brother and sisters._

But as he looked into the eyes of his father deep inside the orb, he found that it wasn't even them he was mad at. It was _him._

_He_ who threatened to take away everything Draco had ever known and loved. _He_ who wanted Draco to be alone and just as Dark and ruthless as him. _He_ who wanted Draco to be his. _He_ who wanted the Pack dead, who would do everything in his power to make it so.

His grip on the orb tightened. His breath grew shallow and quick, his heart pounded inside of him. But above everything else, there was this feeling…this dark desire deep within him that wanted to do more than just defend his Pack from his father. He didn't _want_ to leave him up to the Pack-parents to handle. He wanted his father for himself, to make him pay, to make him suffer…

He didn't care if he had to use an Unforgivable against his father; anything to make him pay. He didn't care if he had to use a sword, not stabbing his heart, no…a quick death would be too merciful for his father…

He wanted to murder him with his bare hands, to rip him limb from limb, tear the man's black heart out with his teeth, if he had to.

Draco could just imagine how he would do it, too. His father would be lying at his feet, blood on his clothes, his face, the floor, the walls…he would be completely at his mercy. No longer would Draco be afraid of him…no longer would _anyone_ be afraid of him. His father would have fear in his eyes at the very sight of Draco, at what he could do, at what he was capable of…at who he could become.

_And he would have every right to be scared. They all would. Once I'm done with him, who says I'll stop? I'll take out every Death Eater unfortunate to be alive. I'll use every method they ever used against innocent people. I'll show them what it means to truly be in pain…what it truly means to __**fail.**_ They won't get away with it. _**I**_ won't let them!

**_Draco!_**

Hermione's voice broke inside his mind and at once the thoughts vanished. He blinked and tore his eyes away from the orb, wondering why they were all looking at him, and when Hermione had touched him without his noticing.

"What?" he asked. "Sorry, I zoned out for a bit. And why is it so bloody hot in here? I'm going to go outside, you coming?"

Harry furrowed his brow. "Yeah…you do look rather pale, mate. Are you sure you're okay? You didn't hear a word we said, did you? You were just staring at that thing like your eyes were on fire."

"Your eyes practically _are_ on fire, they're so bloodshot," Meghan said, coming forward. "You want me to heal them?"

"I said I was fine." Draco jerked away from her outstretched arm and stood up, removing Hermione's hand from his own. She looked up at him, a question written on her face, then glanced down over at the orb in his hands.

He switched it to his other side so she couldn't see it as well, then stalked over to the ladder. "I'm going to go for a fly. Anyone else want to play a game?"

"Erm, sure," Harry said, following. "What, Neenie, you don't need to elbow me. A game is just what we need. What say you, two on two?"

"I want to play!" Meghan said. "Can I have a ride on your Nimbus, Harry?"

"Sure. Want to see if you can outstrip me on that thing?"

Hermione followed behind them at a slower pace, her face darker than usual and her eyes fixed on the orb in Draco's hand. She nearly ran into Harry when he stopped suddenly right before he was about to go through the door out of the stables.

"Ooph! What is it?"

"I…I smell something weird…" he said. He lifted his nose and sniffed in the direction of all the ropes and bridles and bags hanging from the hooks on the wall opposite. "It smells different…like an animal, almost, but like fear…"

"Harry. We're in a stable. Of _course_ you're going to smell an animal."

"No…this doesn't smell like a horse. It smells almost human." He took a step closer to the wall, his eyes narrowed. "Oh, come on, you can't smell it, too?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and breathed in through her nose. She ended up coughing, her eyes watery. "Harry, that smells _terrible_."

"Yeah, that's what I mean! Doesn't it smell almost like a mouse to you? I might say a weasel or some such, but I think it's definitely smaller—"

"A _mouse?_ Harry, I'm talking about the bottle of resin somebody spilled. It smells disgusting, but _I_ certainly don't want to clean it up…I'll tell Danger about it when we go back inside. Poor horses…" She trailed off, moving past Harry and leaving the stables.

Harry took one last look at the bags hanging up on the hooks, then shrugged his shoulders and followed her.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **All right, I am terribly sorry this is so late. :-( I had it posted on my other site, (you can find this site through my 'homepage' link) and forgot about this one. Sorry, sorry...I've renumbered the chapters here so that there's a prologue first, as was originally intended. I didn't want to have to mess with the numbering of the chapters and have it said 2. Chapter 3, 3. Chapter 4 and whatnot because I've always hated that, but oh well. I'll live. _

_Oh, in case you haven't heard, the two Easter Eggs in the last chapter can be found here:_

_Easter Egg #1: First, look at each first word of each scene from Ch. 2 **The Heart of the Lion**. They spell out a certain person's name. _

_Easter Egg #2: Look at each **last** word of each scene of that same chapter, and focus on the very last letter of each. It spells out another person's name._

_So here you are! Don't forget to review, and if you're still having trouble finding those two Easter Eggs, just ask me and I'll tell you. Anne Walsh is my beta, and she does a wonderful job of it. :-D Love you!_

_Cheers! _

_Hestia Hesperus_


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